PORTRAIT  OF  PROFESSOR  ROBERTS 

Painted    in    1903    by    Collins    and    now    in    Roberts    Hall, 
Cornell  University. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


OF 


A  FARM  BOY 


BY 


ISAAC  PHILLIPS  ROBERTS,  M.  Agr. 

Professor  Emeritus  and  for  thirty  years  Professor 
and  Dean  of  the  College  of  Agriculture 
Cornell  University 


ALBANY 

J.  B.  LYON  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 
1916 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION  BY  LIBERTY  HYDE  BAILEY  .  .  i 
OUTLINE  OF  PROFESSOR  I.  P.  ROBERTS  LIFE  .  5 
How  I  CAME  TO  WRITE  THIS  BOOK  .  .  7 

SECTION  I  —  BOYHOOD  AND  YOUTH  IN  NEW  YORK 

STATE,  1833-54  .     n 

THE  ROBERTS  FAMILY       .          .          .  17 

PIONEER  LIFE  OF  NEW  YORK  STATE  .     23 

INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS  IN  MY 

BOYHOOD 27 

EDUCATION  AND   PLEASURES   OF  THE   COM- 
MUNITY   59 

RELIGION  AND  POLITICS  IN  SENECA  COUNTY.     71 
AGRICULTURAL  CONDITIONS  IN  THE  MIDDLE- 
NINETEENTH  CENTURY     .         .         .         -75 
GROWING  UP.     SCHOOL  TEACHING  AND  CAR- 
PENTERING       92 

SECTION  II  —  EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE   MIDDLE 

WEST,  1854-73 105 

How  I  CAME  TO  Go  WE  ST.    PIONEER  INDIANA 
AND  THE  AGUE        .....   107 

MARRIAGE 121 

MY    FIRST    FARM    AT    KINGSBURY      .         .   122 
OVERLAND    TRIP    TO    SOUTHEASTERN    IOWA 

IN    1862 125 

AGRICULTURAL  CONDITIONS  IN  IOWA  DURING 
THE  WAR        .         .         .         .         .         .129 

How  I  CAME  TO  BE  A  COLLEGE  PROFESSOR 

IN    1869 152 

THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  EARLY  AGRICULTURAL 
TEACHING  .   160 


330328 


iv  CONTENTS 

PAGE 
SECTION    III  —  LIFE    AND    WORK    AT    CORNELL 

UNIVERSITY,  1874-1903   V'       .         .         .   175 

LEARNING  TO  FARM  OVER  AGAIN  IN  NEW 
YORK     .         .         .         .         .         .         .187 

FARM    BUILDINGS    AT    CORNELL    AND    THE 
"MODEL  BARN"    .         .         ...         •   J98 

EXPERIMENTS  IN  SILAGE     .         .         .         .   205 

LIVESTOCK    AND    THE   MENACE  OF  TUBER- 
CULOSIS      ,  ,         .      j '. ,       .        ..         .  207 

HORTICULTURE  .       "..       V        ,.        .212 

POULTRY  .         ,         . '        .         .         .  214 

EXPERIMENTATION  AND  INVESTIGATION         .   218 
THE  FEDERAL  STATION        .         .         .         .  220 

THE  STATE  STATION  AT  GENEVA          .         .  227 
AGRICULTURAL  EDUCATION          .         .         .   229 
THE  RESULTS  OF  MY  EXPERIENCE      •.         .  233 
EXPERIENCES  WITH  NEW  YORK  STATE  OR- 
GANIZATIONS   .  ....   247 

TRAVELS  IN  CANADA,  TWENTY-THREE  STATES, 
EUROPE  AND  THE  FAR  SOUTH        ~  .  ;;      .  263 

SECTION  IV  —  CALIFORNIA  AND  THE  WESTERING 

SUN  — 1903     .         .  .         .         .   295 

READJUSTMENTS.     SALARY  AND  SAVINGS       .   296 
SOILS,  PRICES  AND  PRODUCTS  IN  THE  GREAT 
FARMING  VALLEYS  .          .         .         .         .  300 

THE  LAND  EXPERT  AND  HIS  SERVICE  .   314 

CLIMATE,  VIEW  AND  POPULATION        .         .316 
PHILOSOPHY  OF  LIFE  AND  THE  NEW  WON- 
DERS     .......  322 

POEM  AND  DEDICATION      .         .         .         .  330 


STATEMENT  BY  L.  H.  BAILEY 

For  thirty  years  Professor  Roberts  led  the  work 
in  agriculture  at  Cornell  University.  These  were 
the  eventful  and  triumphant  years  of  1873  to 
1903.  They  began  in  doubt  and  with  small 
things,  but  they  were  large  with  faith.  He  de- 
veloped one  of  the  best  institutions  of  its  kind. 

Only  ten  or  eleven  years  had  elapsed  since  the 
passage  of  the  Land  Grant  Act,  at  which  time 
instruction  in  agriculture  was  given  a  national 
sanction.  A  few  colleges  had  made  the  effort 
to  organize  the  subject  into  teaching  form  and  to 
collect  the  equipment  and  develop  the  farms  that 
were  necessary  to  the  new  enterprise.  Even 
Michigan,  the  oldest  of  the  existing  North 
American  colleges  of  agriculture,  had  been  under 
way  only  sixteen  years.  Cornell  had  given  instruc- 
tion five  years.  From  the  first,  agriculture  had 
had  its  appointed  place  in  the  institution;  but 
the  work  was  not  really  established  until  Professor 
Roberts  came.  He  came  from  a  farm  and  with 
the  traditions  of  farming.  He  had  had  experience 
in  the  new  institution  in  Iowa.  He  put  himself 

[i] 


2  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

to  the  task  bravely,  as  one  sets  out  to  plow  and 
to  fit  a  prairie  domain  the  boundaries  of  which  are 
unseen  and  the  promise  of  which  is  unknown  but 
to  the  few. 

For  thirty  years  Professor  Roberts  and  his 
associates  stood  for  agriculture,  always  for  agri- 
culture —  not  for  natural  science  under  the  name 
of  agriculture  nor  for  some  pleasant  combination 
of  studies  that  would  satisfy  the  law.  In  an 
eastern  university,  with  the  great  tide  of  emigra- 
tion sweeping  past  him  to  the  West,  with  decreas- 
ing values,  with  old  fields,  with  hindering  tradi- 
tions, he  stood, —  stood  like  a  prophet. 

It  is  this  courage,  this  steadfastness  in  the  de- 
termination to  hold  the  field  for  agriculture,  that 
grows  larger  in  my  estimation  as  the  years 
go  by.  I  speak  of  his  work  in  the  past  tense, 
for  I  too  look  backward ;  but  I  am  glad  that  he  is 
still  keen  to  follow  the  result  of  his  labors.  It  was 
not  then  a  day  for  erudition,  or  for  high  technical 
scholarship,  but  a  time  for  clear  faith,  homely  and 
direct  relations  with  the  people,  wisdom  in  giving 
advice.  From  the  first  years  that  I  knew  him  he 
was  a  philosopher  and  a  forecaster,  always  prac- 
tical, always  driving  home  the  point,  always  with 
his  feet  squarely  on  the  ground. 


STATEMENT  BY  L.  H.  BAILEY  3 

He  loved  the  farm;  from  the  rail  fence  to  the 
back  lot,  the  trees  in  the  pasture,  the  woodside,  the 
orchard,  every  animal  in  stall  or  field,  the  high 
land  and  the  low  land,  all  were  his  to  walk  over, 
to  question,  to  inspect  with  care,  and  to  improve. 
It  was  one  of  the  delights  of  his  teaching  to  take 
his  "  boys  "  to  the  farm.  He  was  a  master  in  the 
practice  of  observing  farm  conditions, —  why  the 
grass  was  thin  here  and  heavy  there,  why  the 
weeds  came  in,  why  the  animals  chose  the  spot  on 
which  to  lie,  how  to  run  the  drains,  to  build  a 
fence,  to  put  up  a  shed  or  barn,  to  paint  a  building, 
how  to  break  a  horse,  how  to  breed  a  herd  from 
a  common  foundation,  how  to  sell  a  crop,  what  the 
weather  meant,  how  to  bring  an  old  field  back 
into  good  condition.  He  did  not  teach  some  small 
department  of  farm  knowledge  as  we  do  in  these 
days,  but  the  whole  farm  and  the  farmer  and  the 
wife  and  the  children  and  the  hired  man ;  and  he 
taught  it  with  a  quiet  and  genial  philosophy,  often 
quaint  and  always  full  of  good  humor.  He  was 
the  real  teacher  of  the  small  group,  preferring  the 
out-of-doors  and  the  barns  and  the  herds  to  the 
formal  laboratories.  I  have  never  known  anyone 
to  make  such  good  educational  use  of  an  entire 
farm  and  its  equipment. 


4  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Yet,  with  all  his  knowledge  of  the  fields,  Pro- 
fessor Roberts  was  singularly  sympathetic  with 
every  range  of  science  teaching,  with  every  indoor 
laboratory,  with  good  work  in  every  department 
of  knowledge.  Unlike  many  practical  men,  he  did 
not  insist  that  all  science  should  have  immediate 
application.  He  saw  the  educational  result.  So 
he  gathered  about  him  many  specialists,  gave  them 
every  facility  and  equipment  he  could  secure,  and 
left  them  with  great  freedom. 

His  hold  on  the  students  and  on  the  people 
of  the  state  was  remarkable.  His  talks  and  ad- 
dresses always  had  practical  wisdom  combined 
with  vision,  he  was  patient  and  self-contained  un- 
der criticism,  he  made  friends  and  he  held  them. 
To  this  day  all  over  New  York  his  students  hold 
him  in  affection,  and  old  men  with  broken  step 
inquire  of  him  with  tenderness. 

Professor  Roberts  retired  at  seventy,  but 
fortunately  retained  his  connection  with  Cornell 
as  professor  emeritus,  a  relationship  that  he  still 
holds.  The  men  of  his  active  generation  have 
mostly  passed  the  years  of  service.  Many  of  his 
immediately  succeeding  colleagues  carry  still  the 
responsibilities  that  he  left  to  them,  and  they  are 
ever  mindful  of  what  he  would  have  them  to  do. 


OUTLINE  OF 
PROFESSOR  ROBERTS'  LIFE 


author  of  this  autobiography,  Pro- 
fessor Isaac  Phillips  Roberts,  was  born 
in  Seneca  County,  New  York,  July  24, 
,  of  native  American  parents.  His  father, 
Aaron  Phillips  Roberts,  emigrated  from  Harbor- 
town,  New  Jersey,  to  Central  New  York  about 
1816  and  in  1820  married  Elizabeth  Burroughs, 
the  daughter  of  Joseph  Burroughs,  who  had  come 
from  the  same  neighborhood  in  New  Jersey  in 
1812.  Professor  Roberts  was  educated  in  the  dis- 
trict school  of  the  town  of  Varick  and  at  the  Seneca 
Falls  Academy.  He  never  attended  College  but  in 
1875  ne  received  from  the  Iowa  State  Agricultural 
College  the  degree  of  Master  of  Agriculture. 

In  early  manhood  he  went  from  East  Varick 
to  La  Porte,  Indiana,  where  he  practised  the  trade 
of  carpenter  until  he  was  able  to  buy  a  farm,  and 
taught  school  during  the  winters.  In  1857  he 
married  at  Kingsbury,  Indiana,  Margaret  Jane 
Marr,  the  daughter  of  a  prosperous  farmer,  and 
in  1862  emigrated  with  his  wife  and  daughter  in  a 
pioneer  wagon  from  Indiana  to  Mount  Pleasant, 
Iowa,  where  he  settled  down  to  farming. 

[5] 


6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

In  1869  he  was  called  to  the  position  of  Super- 
intendent of  the  Farm  and  Secretary  of  the  Board 
of  Trustees  of  the  Iowa  Agricultural  College  at 
Ames,  and  shortly  afterward  was  made  Professor 
of  Agriculture.  In  1873  ne  accepted  a  similar 
position  at  Cornell  University,  Ithaca,  New  York, 
and  a  little  later  was  made  Dean  of  the  Faculty 
of  Agriculture  and  Director  of  the  Experiment  Sta- 
tion. During  the  thirty  years  of  his  service  at  Cor- 
nell he  wrote  voluminously  on  agricultural  subjects, 
as  Associate  Editor  on  the  staff  of  The  Country 
Gentleman,  about  fourteen  hundred  short  articles 
chiefly  in  answer  to  queries;  and  four  scientific 
books,  i.  e.,  The  Fertility  of  The  Land  which  has 
gone  to  several  editions  and  is  still  in  general  use 
as  a  College  textbook;  The  Farmers'  Business 
Handbook  of  which  a  second  edition  has  recently 
been  published;  The  Farmstead  and  The  Horse. 

At  the  age  of  seventy  he  retired  with  the  title 
of  Professor  Emeritus,  receiving  an  honorary  pen- 
sion from  the  Carnegie  Foundation  for  his  serv- 
ices; and  settled  in  Palo  Alto,  California.  At  the 
death  of  his  wife  in  December,  1913,  he  went  to 
live  with  his  youngest  son  at  Fresno,  California, 
where  he  spends  his  winters.  In  the  summer  of 
1915  he  finished  this  narrative  at  the  home  of  his 
daughter  in  Berkeley,  California. 


HOW  I  CAME 
TO  WRITE  THIS  BOOK 

WHEN  my  sons  and  daughter  were  little 
they,  like  other  children,  wanted  me  to 
tell  them  stories;  and  as  I  had  never 
read  much  fiction  and  was  not  very  imaginative, 
I  used  to  describe  how  things  were  made  and  relate 
the  simple  adventures  of  my  limited  travels.  But 
best  of  all  they  liked  the  stories  of  my  boyhood 
and  the  tales  of  the  neighborhood  in  which  I  was 
born  and  grew  to  manhood.  The  country  of  my 
nativity  —  East  Varick,  Seneca  County,  New  York 
—  is  situated  on  the  west  bank  of  Cayuga  Lake, 
about  opposite  the  town  of  Aurora,  and  when  they 
went  there  later  to  visit  their  relatives  it  appeared 
to  be  an  old  settled  place.  But  to  me  it  always  had 
the  glamour  of  a  pioneer  region,  for  it  was  a  wil- 
derness when  my  grandparents  came  from  New 
Jersey  to  settle  there  in  1812,  and  the  tales  of 
their  experiences  and  of  my  parents'  early  life  had 
all  the  picturesqueness  of  western  adventure. 

Since  I  retired  from  my  professorship  at  Cornell 
University  in  1903  and  moved  to  California,  my 
children  have  repeatedly  asked  me  to  write  out  in 

[7] 


8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

detail  not  only  those  early  recollections  but  a  com- 
plete autobiography.  My  daughter,  Mary,  on 
one  of  her  visits  to  the  old  homestead  of  the  Rob- 
erts family  in  New  York,  found  some  tattered  yel- 
low papers  in  a  market  basket  under  the  business 
desk  belonging  to  my  eldest  brother,  Ralph.  These 
proved  to  be  the  private  papers  of  her  great-grand- 
father, Joseph  Burroughs,  which  had  been  taken 
from  an  old  desk  in  the  Burroughs  farmhouse  and 
which  would  have  been  destroyed,  perhaps,  but  for 
her  interest  in  them. 

These  documents  —  essays,  poems,  riddles,  et 
cetera, —  had  no  great  literary  merit  but  reflected 
the  taste  of  the  time  and  showed  that  my  grand- 
father Burroughs,  who  was  a  school  teacher  in 
his  youth  and  a  farmer  throughout  his  adult  life, 
had,  at  any  rate,  intellectual  aspirations.  My 
daughter,  therefore,  proposed  that  I  should  con- 
tinue the  literary  tradition  and  leave  this  informal 
account  of  my  life  to  my  children  and  grandchil- 
dren. 

I  realize  that  this  is  a  somewhat  difficult  under- 
taking, as  I  have  no  notes  or  letters  of  the  earlier 
period  to  guide  me,  the  few  papers  I  had  having 
been  destroyed  when  my  house  was  burned  in  1 863. 
In  old  age,  however,  one  is  likely  to  remember  the 


INTRODUCTION  9 

scenes  of  youth  better  than  those  of  later  years; 
though  one  is  apt  also  to  exaggerate  the  importance 
of  happenings  in  youth  and  to  get  some  things  out 
of  focus.  As  to  dates,  many  of  them  will  not  be 
exact,  and  I  shall  often  have  to  say  "  about  " ;  but, 
at  any  rate,  I  shall  not  set  down  anything  in  malice 
nor  for  the  purpose  of  leading  my  children  and 
friends  to  think  "  What  a  big  man  am  I  ". 

I  began  this  autobiography  in  1904-5  and 
handed  over  a  lengthy  manuscript  to  my  daughter 
for  criticism.  But  on  April  18,  1906,  at  5.20  in 
the  morning,  a  severe  earthquake  occurred  in  San 
Francisco,  California,  where  she  was  then  living. 
Fires  soon  afterward  broke  out  and,  as  the  water 
mains  were  shattered,  the  flames  spread  almost 
immediately  and  very  rapidly.  Mary  was  living 
at  a  Settlement  on  South  Park  near  Third  Street 
at  that  time  and  lost  nearly  all  of  her  belongings, 
my  manuscript  with  the  rest. 

In  Palo  Alto,  where  I  was  living,  the  chimney 
of  our  house  was  destroyed,  as  were  almost  all  the 
others  in  the  town;  much  plastering  cracked  and 
fell,  a  few  buildings  were  thrown  out  of  plumb 
and  two  recently  constructed  concrete-block  build- 
ings were  leveled  to  the  ground.  The  Stanford 
University  buildings  suffered  most,  the  damage  to 


io  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

them  being  estimated  at  more  than  one-half  million 
dollars.  The  greatest  movement  or  cleavage  was 
along  the  foothills  near  which  the  University 
buildings  stand;  and  in  one  place  the  slip  of  the 
earth  was  at  least  six  feet,  as  shown  by  the  board 
fences.  But  it  is  not  my  purpose  to  give  a  detailed 
account  of  the  earthquake  and  fire,  as  that  can  be 
found  elsewhere,  in  print  —  only  to  relate  so  much 
of  it  as  came  within  my  purview. 

One  more  digression  I  must  permit  myself  be- 
fore I  set  out  on  my  personal  narrative.  If  this 
history  of  a  farm  boy  should  ever  come  to  print, 
I  should  not  expect  that  it  would  interest  the  liter- 
ary men  of  that  time,  but  I  should  hope  that  it 
might  give  courage  to  boys  on  the  farms  who  are 
often  denied  opportunity  to  acquire  a  thorough 
education  by  reason  of  lack  of  means  and  too 
strenuous  physical  labor.  Theodore  Roosevelt 
has  said  that  he  began  to  get  his  education  young 
—  right  away  after  he  left  college.  It  will  be 
seen  that  I  began  mine  at  a  much  earlier  date  and 
continued  it  for  three-quarters  of  a  century.  The 
farm  boys  who  may  read  this  should  learn  from  it 
the  lesson  of  continuous  growth,  by  which  even 
the  slowest  may  arrive  at  their  full  capacity. 


SECTION  I 

BOYHOOD  AND  YOUTH  IN  NEW  YORK 
STATE 


(1833-1854) 


SECTION  I 

BOYHOOD  AND  YOUTH  IN  NEW  YORK  STATE 

I  WAS  born  in  the  Roberts'  farmhouse,  on  the 
west  bank  of  Cayuga  Lake,  July  24,  1833, 
at  sunrise  of  a  fine  harvest  morning.  At 
that  time  and  for  several  years  subsequently  it  was 
the  custom  of  my  father  —  as  of  other  heads  of 
families  —  to  go  to  the  nearest  village,  Seneca 
Falls,  some  days  in  advance  of  harvest  and  there 
to  trade  farm  products  and  to  purchase  supplies 
enough  to  last  for  as  much  as  six  weeks,  that  is, 
through  harvest.  There  was  always  on  hand  an 
abundance  of  pickled  pork  —  the  great,  de-ribbed 
sides  of  the  hogs  killed  the  fall  before,  which  had 
been  packed  edgewise  in  concentric  layers  in  huge 
casks  and  left  in  the  cellar  covered  with  saturated 
brine  to  which  a  little  salt  petre  had  been  added. 
But  groceries,  such  as  sugar,  molasses,  spices  and  a 
keg  of  salt  mackerel  to  break  the  monotony  of 
pork  and  chicken,  were  purchased  in  town;  and 
most  important  of  all  items  was  the  keg  of 
whiskey,  for  few  men  would  work  in  those  days 

[131 


14  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

without  a  regular  supply  of  some  kind  of  spirituous 
liquors.  Although  we  had  an  overment  of  home- 
grown foods,  I  have  mentioned  these  purchases  to 
leave  on  record  the  fact  that  the  New  York  pio- 
neers were  most  bountifully  fed  —  a  great  factor 
in  the  upbuilding  of  a  vigorous  people. 

As  to  the  desirability  of  whiskey  as  a  beverage, 
my  earliest  experience  as  well  as  my  later  ones 
lead  me  to  an  unfavorable  opinion;  for,  on  the 
morning  I  was  born,  the  hired  woman  helped  her- 
self to  the  whiskey  and  before  breakfast  time  she 
was  unable  to  perform  her  duties.  This  left  all 
the  housework  for  a  family  consisting  of  an  invalid 
mother,  five  children  and  some  half  dozen  harvest 
hands,  to  be  done  by  my  eldest  sister  Caroline 
(who  was  only  twelve  years  of  age),  with  such 
assistance  as  the  other  children  could  render. 

I  imagine,  therefore,  that  I  was  an  inopportune 
if  not  an  unwelcome  visitor,  especially  as  I  came 
for  a  long  stay,  with  no  idea  of  entertaining  my- 
self. But,  in  spite  of  such  a  beginning,  I  have 
thought  myself  fortunate  in  being  nearly  the  mid- 
dle child  of  parents  who  were  themselves  middle 
children;  and  I  am  sure  that  I  was  fortunate  in 
being  born  in  the  great  Empire  State  and  in  its 
most  fertile  and  beautiful  section,  by  the  shores  of 


BOYHOOD  AND  YOUTH  IN  NEW  YORK  STATE     15 


one  of  its  clear  and  lovely  u  finger  "  lakes.  For  I 
cannot  but  think  that  "  Old  Cayuga  "  had  a  pro- 
found if  unconscious  influence  in  preparing  me  for 
an  unusually  strenuous  and  difficult  life. 

The  house  where  I  was  born  was  on  the  site  of 
the  log  house  built  by  my  grandfather  Burroughs 
when  he  emigrated  from  Harbortown,  New  Jer- 
sey, to  Central  New  York,  in  1812.  At  that  time 
he  brought  with  him  his  family,  consisting  of  a 
wife  and  three  children,  traveling  in  a  prairie- 
schooner  wagon.  He  had  selected  a  farm  there 
some  time  before,  I  think,  and  had  built  this  log 
house  —  at  any  rate,  there  was  a  house  upon  the 
site  when  they  arrived.  A  few  miles  before  they 
reached  their  place  he  stopped  at  a  saw-mill  and 
bought  a  single,  wide  board  which  served  as  their 
first  dining  table.  This  was  constructed  by  boring 
holes  into  the  logs  of  the  house,  and  driving  pins 
into  them  that  supported  the  board.  The  larger 
part  of  the  furniture  was  home-made.  Every 
farmer  in  those  days  was  provided  with  a  small 
kit  of  rough  carpenter  tools  and  was  trained  after 
the  manner  of  the  skilled  Dutchman  of  Pennsyl- 
vania who  claimed  that  if  he  had  a  broad-ax  and  a 
narrow  ax,  an  auger,  a  saw,  a  pair  of  compasses 
and  a  two-foot  rule,  he  could  build  a  saw-mill. 


1 6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

As  is  customary  among  farmers  in  a  new  coun- 
try, a  barn  was  built  before  the  second  or  per- 
manent dwelling  house.  Just  when  my  grand- 
father built  the  permanent  residence  I  cannot  say, 
but  it  must  have  been  fully  ninety  years  ago;  and 
it  must  have  been  a  well-built  house,  for  it  is  still 
in  good  condition.  The  construction  was  some- 
what peculiar  as  compared  with  present  methods. 
About  every  three  feet  along  the  outer  walls  of 
the  house,  hewn  posts  which  were  at  least  eight 
by  eight  inches,  were  erected  and  held  together 
about  five  feet  from  their  tops  by  great  beams 
upon  which  the  upper  floor  was  laid.  The  beams 
having  been  planed  and  the  boards  also,  on  both 
sides,  it  was  not  by  any  means  an  inartistic  struc- 
ture, seen  from  the  inside.  The  space  —  eight  to 
ten  inches  —  between  the  inner  plastered  walls  and 
the  outside  clap-boarded  ones,  was  filled  with  clay 
mortar  held  in  place  by  thin  strips  of  wood  which 
had  been  split  out  of  straight  grained  logs. 

The  pioneers  had  a  unique  way  of  mixing  mor- 
tar: they  excavated  the  surface  soil,  dug  up  the 
clay  beneath,  then  threw  in  straw,  and  some  corn, 
poured  water  over  all,  and  turned  in  a  herd  of  hun- 
gry swine  to  do  the  work  of  mixing.  The  eave- 
troughs  of  this  house  were  made  of  a  stick  of 


BOYHOOD  AND  YOUTH  IN  NEW  YORK  STATE     17 

cucumber  timber  about  six  by  eight  inches,  hol- 
lowed out  on  the  inside  and  moulded  on  the  out- 
side, and  these,  when  spiked  under  the  eaves,  not 
only  served  to  convey  water  but  formed  a  very 
respectable  cornice  as  well.  They  did  efficient  serv- 
ice for  more  than  thirty  years.  At  the  time  I  was 
born  there  was  also  a  barn,  a  long  cow  stable,  a 
wagon-house,  a  wood-house,  a  stone  ash-house,  a 
smoke-house  and  an  out-door  brick  oven. 

THE  FAMILY 

Such  knowledge  as  I  have  of  my  forebears  on 
both  sides  indicates  that  they  were  farmers,  almost 
without  exception  and  chiefly  of  Welsh  and  Eng- 
lish extraction.  Some  of  them  fought  in  the  Revo- 
lution but,  so  far  as  I  know,  without  particular  dis- 
tinction. My  maternal  grandfather,  Joseph  Bur- 
roughs, was  born  in  Hunterdon  County,  New  Jer- 
sey, probably  about  1769.  He  appears  to  have 
begun  life  as  a  school  teacher,  for  a  certificate  of 
his  superior  qualifications  exists  in  the  Roberts  fam- 
ily Bible,  owned  by  Ralph  P.  Roberts  of  East  Var- 
ick,  New  York.  The  certificate  is  signed  by  twelve 
Dutch  school  trustees.  It  is  known  that  the  Bur- 
roughs family  emigrated  from  New  Jersey  to  Cen- 
tral New  York  in  1812  and  settled  in  Seneca 


1 8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

County,  on  the  west  bank  of  Cayuga  Lake,  at  die 
place  now  called  East  Varick. 

As  I  have  already  mentioned,  Grandfather  Bur- 
roughs was  a  voluminous  writer,  for  each  of  my 
children  now  possesses  a  number  of  his  manu- 
scripts which  were  recovered  some  forty  years  after 
his  death.  The  handwriting  is  good,  the  grammar 
nearly  faultless  and  the  subjects  cover  a  wide 
range.  He  must  certainly  have  had  an  active 
mind  and  literary  tastes  to  find  time  to  write  so 
profusely  while  he  was  farming  and  letting  sun- 
light into  beech  and  maple  forests  which  were  then 
so  dense  that  they  would  yield  from  twenty  to 
twenty-five  cords  of  four-foot  wood  per  acre. 

It  appears  from  the  internal  evidence  of  these 
papers  that  Joseph  Burroughs  was  a  farmer,  a 
local  poet  and  speaker,  accustomed  to  commemo- 
rate the  notable  events  of  the  neighborhood  and  to 
have  these  productions  published  in  the  Ovid  Ga- 
zette. He  was  a  tax  assessor  and  a  school  trustee ; 
a  member  of  the  Methodist  Church  though  rather 
too  liberal  in  his  opinions  to  please  the  minister; 
a  man  widely  interested  in  national  affairs,  as 
shown  by  the  varied  subjects  of  his  writings;  vio- 
lently opposed  to  the  Free  Masons;  and  if  not 
well  educated,  at  least  well  read  in  classical  Eng- 
lish literature,  for  his  verse  abounds  in  classical 


BOYHOOD  AND  YOUTH  IN  NEW  YORK  STATE     19 

allusions  after  the  fashion  of  the  period.  Pope 
and  Dryden  appear  to  have  been  his  literary 
models ;  and  that  he  was  full  of  sentiment  is  indi- 
cated by  the  great  variety  of  elegiac  and  love 
poetry  as  well  as  of  satire,  left  to  us.  He  evidently 
delighted  in  puzzles,  enigmas  and  difficult  arith- 
metical problems. 

I  know  very  little  about  my  grandparents  on  my 
father's  side  because  they  did  not  emigrate  to  New 
York  but  lived  and  died  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Hunterdon  County,  New  Jersey.  My  father, 
Aaron  Phillips  Roberts,  was  born  there,  October 
24>  X795»  near  Harbortown,  which  is  not  far  from 
Washington's  Crossing  on  the  Delaware  River. 
When  he  was  about  twenty-one  years  of  age  he 
walked  from  Harbortown  to  East  Varick  —  a 
distance  of  three  hundred  miles  —  with  his  gun  on 
his  shoulder.  When  he  married  my  mother,  Eliza- 
beth Burroughs,  in  1820,  the  young  couple  went  to 
live  in  a  log  cabin  on  a  small  farm  of  about  thirty- 
five  acres,  upon  which  tract  the  village  of  East 
Varick  now  stands.  After  Grandfather  Bur- 
roughs' death  they  moved  back  to  the  old  home- 
stead farm  and  worked  the  two  farms  together 
until  their  eldest  daughter,  Caroline,  married 
Charles  Christopher,  when  the  East  Varick  tract 
was  given  to  her. 


2O  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

My  father,  in  early  life,  I  have  been  told,  taught 
school  one  winter  and  singing  school  for  several 
winters,  using  the  "  buckwheat  "  note-book.  When 
he  was  about  forty  years  of  age  he  ceased  to  work 
regularly  on  the  farm  with  the  hired  men  and  con- 
tented himself  with  cultivating  an  excellent  garden, 
cutting  up  some  of  the  wood  after  it  had  been 
hauled  to  the  house,  and  in  winter  with  feeding  a 
portion  of  the  livestock;  he  generally  worked  mod- 
erately in  harvest  and  haying  time.  He  was  a 
great  reader  and  kept  himself  well  informed  on 
the  happenings  of  the  day,  but  he  talked  little  and 
was  rather  reserved  toward  the  neighboring  farm- 
ers. The  picture  of  him  that  rises  in  my  mind  is 
of  a  dignified  country  squire  in  his  high,  light- 
colored  hat  stored  with  letters  and  papers,  high 
boots  and  a  "  shad-belly  "  coat.  I  never  knew  him 
to  wear  either  overalls  or  a  blouse  when  at  work  — 
these  might  be  suitable  for  the  hired  men  and  the 
boys,  but  not  for  the  landowner.  It  will  be  seen 
that  he  still  kept  some  of  the  dignity  and  exclu- 
sivehess  of  the  old  country  gentleman  and  land- 
owner of  England. 

My  mother,  Elizabeth  Burroughs,  was  also  born 
near  Harbortown,  New  Jersey,  August  16,  1800, 
and  came  to  East  Varick  with  her  parents  when 
they  settled  there  in  1812.  It  was  she  who  stood 


BOYHOOD  AND  YOUTH  IN  NEW  YORK  STATE    2 1 

at  the  center  of  the  household.  It  was  she  who 
made  it  possible  for  me  to  go  forth  strong  in  body 
and  of  purpose,  to  work  patiently  and  bravely  for 
the  farmers  —  for  science,  for  justice  and  for 
truth.  As  I  look  upon  the  picture  of  her  strong, 
rugged,  placid  face,  I  recall  her  self-sacrificing  life 
for  the  good  of  everyone  within  the  sphere  of  her 
influence;  and  I  know  that  she  was  a  Christian, 
although  she  belonged  to  no  church  and  seldom 
attended  one. 

Soon  after  marriage  at  twenty  years  of  age,  her 
toils  began,  and  as  the  years  passed,  griefs  and 
burdens  followed  on  one  another's  trail;  but  she 
bore  them  all  quietly,  lovingly,  even  smilingly.  I 
see  her  now,  the  central  figure  in  that  numerous, 
growing  family  —  commanding,  handsome,  but 
not  beautiful,  with  that  large  benignity  which 
comes  to  middle-life  and  age,  from  a  well-spent, 
unselfish  life.  From  the  youngest  to  the  oldest 
child,  we  all  looked  to  her  for  comfort  in  trouble, 
for  instruction  and  advice  in  all  our  undertakings, 
and  for  appreciation  in  our  successes.  After  all 
these  years  I  cannot  forgive  myself  for  having 
wantonly  disobeyed  her  when  she  forbade  me  to 
attend  a  dance  at  a  tavern  of  doubtful  reputation. 
This  was  the  more  inexcusable  since  I  was  allowed 
to  do  almost  anything  that  was  not  positively  bad. 


22  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Such  education  as  she  had  she  received  in  the 
schools  of  Harbortown,  but  she  never  went  to 
school  after  she  was  twelve  years  of  age.  She 
was,  however,  a  great  reader  —  considering  her 
cares  and  opportunities  —  had  a  remarkable  mem- 
ory and  was  clever  at  mathematics.  She  could 
figure  a  problem  "  in  her  head  "  more  quickly  and 
accurately  than  any  of  her  sons.  She  was  particu- 
larly fond  of  Rasselas,  Aesop's  Fables  in  Rhyme, 
Thompson's  Seasons  and  Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake, 
the  greater  part  of  which  she  was  still  able  to 
quote  in  her  old  age.  She  could  not  sing  at  all 
nor  could  any  of  her  generation  of  the  Burroughs 
family;  but  she  had  an  unusual  love  of  poetry  and 
occasionally  wrote  letters  in  verse  to  her  children. 

My  mother  died  at  the  ripe  age  of  seventy-nine 
years  in  the  house  where  she  had  lived  for  more 
than  fifty  years  and  in  the  midst  of  loving  children 
and  grandchildren.  She  had  been  "  Aunt  Betsy  " 
to  the  whole  neighborhood  and  a  friend  to  every- 
one who  needed  anything  she  could  give  or  could 
do  for  them. 

My  father  and  mother  were  married  in  1820,  as 
I  have  already  said,  and  the  ceremony  was  per- 
formed by  the  Reverend  Palmer  Roberts,  an  uncle 
and  an  itinerant  minister  of  the  Methodist  Church, 


PIONEER  SETTLERS  IN  SENECA  COUNTY     23 

who  was  a  well-known  and  eccentric  person.  The 
story  is  told  of  him  that  once  when  he  was  preach- 
ing "  fire  and  brimstone  "  he  made  a  rather  pointed 
personal  application  to  an  unregenerate  tough  in 
the  audience.  Some  days  later  the  two  men  met 
in  the  roadway,  and  the  man  of  the  pew  declared 
he  had  been  insulted  and  offered  to  fight.  The 
minister  replied  that  what  he  said  was  true  and 
resorted  to  argument,  but  the  sinner  insisted  that 
he  was  going  to  thrash  him.  The  Reverend  Rob- 
erts got  down  from  his  horse,  took  off  his  coat,  say- 
ing: "  Lay  there,  shadbelly,  while  I  lick  this  sin- 
ner 1  "  When  he  had  finished  the  job  he  put  on  his 
coat  and  rode  away  singing : 

"  Oh  how  happy  are  they  who  their  Savior  obey 
And  have  laid  up  their  treasure  above ! " 

PIONEER  SETTLERS  IN  SENECA  COUNTY 

My  parents  had  nine  children,  of  whom  only 
one  beside  myself  —  William  H.  B.  Roberts  — 
is  now  living;  and  lived  during  the  whole  of  their 
married  life  in  the  township  of  East  Varick  —  my 
mother  lived  more  than  fifty  years  in  the  house 
which  I  have  described  and  which  still  remains. 
This  township  of  East  Varick,  which  was  about 
eight  miles  long,  extending  from  Cayuga  Lake  to 


24  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Seneca  Lake,  was  settled  almost  altogether  by  emi- 
grants from  New  Jersey,  of  English,  Welsh  and 
Irish  extraction ;  while  the  next  township,  Fayette, 
to  the  north  of  us,  was  filled  up  with  Pennsylvania 
Dutch  people.  New  Jersey  was  sandy  and  at  that 
time  not  very  desirable  for  farming  purposes,  and 
as  soon  as  this  lake  country  became  known  they 
flocked  westward  to  it.  At  the  time  the  Burroughs 
family  left  New  Jersey  the  farmers  there  could  no 
longer  raise  wheat,  and  they  therefore  ate  rye 
bread  almost  exclusively.  In  those  days  wheat 
could  be  grown  only  on  new  land;  yet  by  1849, 
those  same  Jersey  lands  had  been  brought  back 
into  wheat  by  the  use  of  lime  and  clover. 

It  should  be  noted  in  passing  that  the  township, 
Fayette,  whose  population  was  largely  "  low 
Dutch/'  laid  less  stress  upon  education  and  religion 
than  the  settlers  of  Varick;  but  they  were  better 
farmers.  They  built  the  first  great  red  "  bank  " 
—  overshot  —  barns  and  kept  large,  fat,  short- 
legged  horses  from  which  arose  our  expression: 
"  Like  a  Dutch  horse,  largest  when  lying  down." 
In  the  first  generation  the  Dutch  built  large 
wooden,  brick  or  stone  houses,  and  the  women 
worked  hard  in  the  open  fields,  especially  at  har- 
vest time.  But  later,  when  the  piano  or  organ,  and 


PIONEER  SETTLERS  IN  SENECA  COUNTY     25 

the  light  top-buggy  came  in,  the  girls  ceased  to 
work  in  the  fields.  Some  of  these  people  bore 
what  seemed  to  us  American  boys  very  odd  names : 
Libarger,  Poffenbarger,  Laudenslaker  and  Kooney. 
This  last  was  a  strange  tribe,  nicknamed  in  the 
countryside  as  Black  Jake,  Slivery  Jake,  Drunken 
Jake,  Jake's  Jake  and  Bully  Jake. 

As  the  picture  of  that  lush  pioneer  life  comes 
back  to  me  I  am  irresistibly  led  to  philosophize 
and  to  compare  the  earlier  with  the  present  time. 
Then  every  one  was  interested  in  everything  that 
was  transpiring  and  everyone  lent  a  helping  hand 
in  all  activities.  If  there  were  many  boys  in  the 
family  they  learned  to  knit  and  even  to  sew,  to  cook 
and  wash  dishes  and  even  to  wash  soiled  clothes. 
If  there  were  many  girls  they  did  the  milking,  car- 
ried in  the  wood  and  water,  picked  the  small  fruits 
and  gathered  the  vegetables.  It  was  a  co-opera- 
tive, whole-hearted  life,  each  for  all  and  all  for 
each.  In  the  reading  and  study  hours  at  night 
there  was  the  same  good-natured  comradeship 
whether  in  cracking  nuts  or  jokes,  in  extracting 
cube  root  or  reading  what  Horace  Greeley  knew 
about  farming. 

All  that  they  had  the  members  of  the  family 
divided  and  shared.  There  were  no  really  poor 


26  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

save  now  and  then  an  unfortunate,  worthy  poor 
person,  and  such  were  cared  for  from  the  common 
store.  The  cast-off  clothing  was  not  handed  out 
to  the  mendicant  poor  but  made  into  rag  carpet  or 
deftly  converted  into  patchwork  quilts.  When  a 
sister  was  to  be  married  all  joined  in  making  use- 
ful things  for  her  housekeeping.  John  was  as 
solicitous  for  the  welfare  of  the  colt  which  would 
be  his  elder  brother's  when  he  reached  his  ma- 
jority as  he  was  of  what  he  called  his  own. 

In  such  an  atmosphere  of  mutual  helpfulness 
grew  up  the  people  who  were  later  to  subdue  the 
wild  and  windy  prairies,  to  bridge  the  western 
rivers  and  to  bind  the  land  together  with  bands  of 
tempered  steel.  Not  content  with  reclaiming  the 
prairies,  their  children  moved  on  to  the  desert,  and 
beyond  into  the  mountains  and  foothills,  and  there 
spied  out  the  treasure  kept  for  those  who  had  the 
pluck  to  find  and  bring  it  forth.  The  more  I  think 
of  it  the  more  I  am  persuaded  that  these  pioneers 
were  Christians  or  near  Christians,  for  of  every- 
thing they  had  they  divided,  in  a  measure,  and  a 
part  of  it  they  passed  along. 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     27 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS  IN 
MY  BOYHOOD 

I  did  not  take  part  in  all  that  I  am  about  to 
relate  in  the  next  paragraphs,  but  I  can  assure  the 
reader  that  I  well  remember  the  stories  told  when 
I  was  a  lad  by  my  parents  as  we  gathered  around 
the  great  fire  of  logs  in  the  living  room  on  winter 
evenings.  In  my  boyhood  the  men  in  harvest  time 
worked  from  "  sun  to  sun  " ;  if  there  chanced  to  be 
a  field  of  hay  or  grain  nearby  they  worked  for  an 
hour  before  breakfast  and,  on  rare  occasions,  har- 
vesting was  carried  on  by  moonlight.  They  had 
to  have  an  "  eye-opener "  when  they  arose  and 
another  drink  just  before  sitting  down  to  break- 
fast. The  bottle  was  carried  to  the  field  and  two 
or  three  drinks  apiece  were  taken  during  the  fore- 
noon by  the  grown  men  and  one  after  washing  up 
before  dinner,  which  was  served  punctually  at  half- 
past  eleven;  but  no  drink  was  served  after  supper. 

In  harvest  time,  beside  the  three  regular  meals 
of  the  day,  lunch  was  served  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
field  and  again  at  four  if  the  fields  were  too  distant 
for  the  men  to  come  to  the  house  for  the  five 
o'clock  supper.  It  may  seem  that  the  eating  and 
drinking  was  excessive,  but  so  was  the  work.  On 
our  farm,  hasty  beer  was  provided  for  the  boys 


28  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

and  for  those  who  did  not  care  for  the  stronger 
drink,  and  a  most  acceptable  drink  it  was.  The 
farmers  had  learned  that  when  only  water  was 
drunk,  the  stomach  was  in  part  paralyzed  by  the 
large  quantities  taken  to  replace  the  excessive  loss 
of  moisture  due  to  the  terrible  work.  This  hasty 
beer  was  made  as  follows :  a  pail  of  water  from  the 
"  northeast "  corner  of  the  well,  a  half  gill  of 
cider  vinegar,  one  gill  of  best  New  Orleans  mo- 
lasses and  one  to  two  tablespoons  of  ginger  — 
stirred  thoroughly  and  modified  to  suit  the  taste. 

Nearly  every  farmhouse  was  provided  with  a 
tin  horn  from  four  to  six  feet  long,  and  there  was 
always  a  rivalry  to  see  who  could  blow  the  horn 
earliest,  best  and  longest.  I  have  known  our  Penn- 
sylvania hired  girl  to  wind  that  mammoth  horn 
for  fifteen  minutes  at  a  stretch.  It  was  in  reality  a 
challenge  to  all  farm  girls  within  hearing  and,  as 
the  farms  were  small  and  the  horn  could  be  heard 
for  more  than  a  mile  with  favorable  wind,  and  as 
the  fields  were  filled  with  harvesters,  she  had  no 
mean  audience. 

I  have  before  me  several  pages  of  an  old  account 
book  of  the  year  1818  which  was  kept  by  my 
brother  Ralph's  wife's  father,  Mr.  Grove,  who  at 
one  time  kept  a  general  merchandise  store  at  Shel- 
drake Point  on  Cayuga  Lake,  twelve  miles  south 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     29 


of  our  farm.  In  view  of  the  present  agitation  con- 
cerning the  cost  of  living,  the  prices  quoted  are 
interesting. 


ARTICLES 

Total 
Cost  in 
English 
money 

Cost  in 
American 
money  per 
gal.,  lb.,  etc. 

50  Ibs.  nails 

£      s 

4-3 

d 

$o  41  per  lb 

15  Ibs.  of  lo-oz.  cheese. 
One  padlock 

J 

..          15 
4 

8 

.25    «     " 

I    OO 

2  bbls.  pork 

16    16 

42  oo    "    bbl 

i  gal.  rum  

6 

i  gal.  whiskey 

irV            g 

2    25     u       u 

2  bu.  45-lbs.  wheat  .  . 
2  Ibs.  tobacco  

I        13        - 

K>       6 

• 

3.00    "    bu. 
7;    "    lb 

i  gal.  wine 

16 

4  oo    "    eal 

i  lb.  tobacco  

3 

•75    "    lb. 

%  lb.  tea  

6 

3  oo    "    lb. 

2  pie  dishes          .    .    . 

2 

6 

31    "    dish 

42^  Ibs.  of  iron 

I      1C 

22     "     lb 

2  hats  

*      x  j 
I         4. 

3  oo  each. 

i  lb.  rasins       

2 

50  per  lb 

i  bible  

8 

2   OO 

^  gal.  rum  

2  62    "    gal. 

383  ft.  boards    

I      II 

20  oo   u    M 

9f  Ibs    steel 

I            A, 

62    "    lb 

i  ft.  spinning  wheel.  .  . 
28  yds.  calico  

*               T 

i     16     . 

3       IQ 

9.00 
71    "    vd 

8  Ibs  loaf  sugar 

J          *  7 

I       8 

87    "    lb 

2  Ibs.  of  shot  

<?7    "    lb. 

£  lb.  tea              

8 

4  oo    "    lb 

7?  Ibs.  fish  .  . 

6 

1 

.20    «     lb. 

30  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

The  English  money  has  been  roughly  translated 
into  American  on  the  scale  of  five  dollars  for  a 
pound,  twenty-five  cents  for  a  shilling  and  two 
cents  for  a  penny.  Incidentally  I  may  remark 
that  the  English  shilling  and  other  small  pieces 
remained  in  circulation  long  after  the  fractional 
American  currency  came  into  use.  The  following 
charges  probably  belong  also  to  the  year  1818, 
although  the  page  is  not  dated. 

i  spade 14  ..  $3.50 

i  barlow  knife i  6  .37 

5  yds.  muslin 12  6  .62  per  yd. 

i  scythe 12  ..  3.00 

I  gal.  whisky 9  . .  2 . 25 

ilb.  pepper i  ..  i.oo    "    Ib. 

|  Ib.  tea 6  . .  3 .  oo    "    Ib. 

On  the  page  from  which  the  above  was  taken 
there  are  38  entries,  of  which  8  are  for  whiskey; 
on  the  next  there  are  36  charges,  of  which  8  are 
for  whiskey,  gin  and  rum,  4  for  tea,  and  2  for 
tobacco.  Page  78  contains  a  charge  for  Latinett 
at  $1.44  per  yard,  and  a  charge  of  $7.45  for  a 
bonnet  and  ribbon,  but  in  all  there  are  33  items, 
of  which  7  are  for  spirituous  liquors. 

I  do  not  remember  hearing  talk  of  the  high  cost 
of  living,  although  tea  was  from  three  to  four 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     31 

dollars  a  pound ;  nor  complaint  of  the  cost  of  living 
"  low  "  with  wine  at  four  dollars,  rum  at  two  to 
three  dollars,  and  straight  whiskey  at  two  twenty- 
five  per  gallon.  In  my  boyhood  we  had  always 
some  imported  loaf  sugar  in  the  house,  but  it  was 
never  used  except  for  company.  Ordinarily  we 
used  a  dark,  strong-tasting  New  Orleans  molasses, 
and  occasionally  home-made  maple  sugar  for 
sweetening  tea  and  coffee. 

At  this  time,  1818,  there  were  few  orchards  in 
bearing,  but  I  have  been  told  that  between  1830 
and  1840  my  father  sold  many  wagon  boxes  full 
of  peaches  at  6^4  cents  per  bushel,  the  purchaser 
shaking  the  fruit  from  the  tree  and  hauling  it  away 
to  be  used  in  making  peach  brandy.  The  sale  of 
fish  at  the  store  comes  as  a  surprise,  since  the  lake 
and  the  streams  were  filled  with  fresh  fish  merely 
waiting  for  some  one  to  drop  them  a  line;  but 
then,  as  in  later  years,  salted  mackerel  and  white 
fish  were  a  welcome  change  from  ham  and  pork  in 
warm  weather. 

There  is  one  charge  of  salt  in  this  old  account 
book,  but  unfortunately  the  price  is  not  given ;  but 
I  remember  that  in  those  days  salt  was  an  expensive 
luxury,  almost  as  necessary  as  whiskey  and  brandy. 
When  a  lad  I  heard  the  following  story  which 


32  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

illustrates  how  difficult  it  was  to  procure  salt  in 
those  days.  It  was  told  that  on  our  farm,  which 
was  bountifully  covered  with  hard  wood,  when  the 
land  was  cleared  large  trees  were  cut  into  lengths 
some  twelve  feet  long,  piled  in  great  heaps,  and 
burned;  then  the  wood  ashes  were  gathered  up, 
leeched,  and  the  lye  boiled  down  in  order  to  secure 
crude  potash  salts.  My  Grandfather  Burroughs 
then  loaded  the  crude  product  into  a  skiff  which 
he  rowed  fifty  miles  to  Syracuse,  where  it  was  ex- 
changed for  common  salt.  So  precious  was  this 
salt  that  the  sacks  which  contained  it  were  put  to 
soak  in  a  tub,  the  water  afterwards  to  be  boiled 
down  to  recover  the  little  that  might  otherwise 
have  been  wasted.  Unfortunately,  during  the 
night,  a  horse  strayed  into  the  yard  and,  being 
salt-hungry,  drank  too  much  out  of  the  tub  and 
died.  That  salt,  at  any  rate,  cost  more  per  pound 
than  loaf  sugar,  one  of  the  seldom  used  luxuries  of 
the  time,  for  horses  were  very  valuable  in  those 
days,  oxen  being  used  in  place  of  them  even  to 
carry  the  family  to  church. 

Before  the  erection  of  the  grist-mill  at  Seneca 
Falls,  corn,  wheat,  rye  and  buckwheat  were  ground 
at  a  little  water-mill  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake 
and  not  far  from  Ithaca.  Usually,  two  sacks 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     33 

nearly  filled  with  "  grist  "  were  divided  each  in 
the  middle,  one  placed  in  front  and  the  other  at 
the  rear  of  the  saddle  and  were  thus  transported 
on  horseback  about  twelve  miles  up  the  Lake  fol- 
lowing the  bridle  path;  then  the  grist  was  loaded 
into  a  skiff  and  carried  diagonally  across  the  Lake 
to  the  mill.  In  those  days  it  was  a  sun-to-sun 
job  with  a  great  part  of  the  night  thrown  in  to  get 
a  grist  to  and  from  the  mill.  In  1874,  I  saw  that 
overshot  wheel  still  intact,  although  the  mill  itself 
—  and  the  water  too,  in  summer  —  were  gone.  It 
was  said  that  the  settlers  for  twenty  miles  around 
had  been  required  to  raise  the  frame  of  the  mill 
at  Seneca  Falls  because  of  the  enormous  size  of  the 
timbers  of  which  it  was  constructed.  g 

There  are  a  few  personal  incidents  of  my  boy- 
hood that  remain  peculiarly  vivid  in  my  memory. 
The  first  is  a  recollection  of  myself  as  a  small  boy, 
hiding  under  the  currant  bushes,  but  I  cannot  fix 
the  exact  date  of  that  long-to-be-remembered  oc- 
casion. It  happened  in  this  wise :  my  father  was 
gathering  the  winter's  supply  of  beets  from  the 
garden  and  piling  them  near  the  wood-pile  ad- 
joining the  lane,  so  that  the  tops  could  be  fed  to 
the  cows  as  they  came  up  from  the  pasture.  I 
undertook  to  cut  off  the  tops  of  the  beets  with  an 
2 


34  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

ordinary  chopping  ax  while  my  younger  sister 
held  them  on  the  chopping  block  for  me.  Al- 
though forbidden  to  do  so  I  continued  and  soon 
chopped  off  the  index  finger  of  my  sister's  right 
hand.  When  I  was  later  discovered  under  the 
currant  bushes  I  stoutly  declared  that  my  sister 
had  asked  me  to  cut  off  the  tops.  In  later  years 
I  have  often  meditated  on  this  scene  —  in  our 
little  garden  of  Eden  —  for  it  has  been  enacted  in 
the  world  untold  times  and  always  with  the  same 
excuse :  "I  was  urged  to  do  it." 

My  next  definite  impression  is  of  the  political 
campaign  of  1 848.  The  whole  country  was  wildly 
excited  at  the  approach  of  the  Presidential  elec- 
tion. Up  to  this  time  the  Democrats  had  had  the 
lion's  share  of  Presidents.  The  Whigs  nominated 
William  Henry  Harrison  and  an  unusual  effort 
was  made  to  elect  him.  It  may  be  truly  said  that 
Harrison  was  sung  into  office.  Ballads  in  great 
variety  were  composed  all  containing  some  refer- 
ence to  log  cabins,  coon  skins  and  hard  cider;  to 
pioneer  life  and  his  war  record.  Miniature  log 
cabins  were  built  of  poles  and  mounted  on  great 
farm  wagons,  coon  skins  were  nailed  on  the  out- 
side and  a  cider  barrel  was  trundled  along  after 
it.  The  little  house  would  hold  perhaps  twenty 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS 


people  and  the  wagon  was  usually  drawn  by  two 
or  three  yoke  of  lusty  oxen.  In  all  respects,  even 
to  the  dress  of  the  young  singers,  the  outfit  was 
made  to  typify  pioneer  scenes  in  a  wooded  country. 
Mass  meetings  were  held  at  many  hamlets  and  not 
infrequently  a  half  a  dozen  of  these  log-cabin 
cavalcades  would  be  present.  With  so  many  lusty 
singers  it  was  inevitable  that  a  great  portion  of  the 
exercises  should  consist  in  singing  these  popular 
and  rollicking  songs ! 

The  Whigs  used  ash  for  their  liberty  poles  in 
honor  of  Henry  Clay  of  Ashland,  I  suppose ;  while 
the  Democrats  used  hickory  in  honor  of  "  Old 
Hickory,"  General  Jackson.  As  poles  of  ash 
could  be  procured  which  were  longer  and 
straighter  than  hickory  poles,  boys  of  the  Whig 
persuasion  made  fun  of  the  hickory  poles.  This 
soon  created  bad  blood  between  the  two  parties 
and,  not  infrequently,  the  liberty  poles  were  cut 
down  in  the  night  time  —  now  by  one  party  and 
now  by  another.  This  led  to  the  device  of  inlaying 
the  poles  with  horse-shoe-nail  iron,  with  old  horse- 
shoes and  stubs  of  nails.  Even  with  these  precau- 
tions the  poles  sometimes  met  an  untoward  fate 
for  they  could  be  bored  off  near  the  ground  or, 
with  the  help  of  a  ladder,  they  might  be  sawed 
off  above  their  armor  plate. 


36  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

The  Roberts  boys  had  to  have  a  liberty  pole  — 
for  did  we  not  have  a  beautiful  knoll  on  which  to 
plant  it?  We  were  like  the  man  who  purchased  a 
fine  door  plate  at  a  bargain  and  had  to  build  a 
house  to  use  it.  We  had  no  trouble  to  find  a  nice 
straight  pole  in  the  woods  of  a  size  fitted  to  our 
boyish  energies ;  and  our  pole  was  never  cut  nor  the 
halyards  molested,  for  the  flag  was  nailed  to  the 
mast.  I  realize  now  that  when  that  ash  liberty 
pole  was  safely  planted  on  that  beautiful  little  hill 
above  the  Lake,  and  the  flag  of  my  country  was 
cast  floating  to  the  breeze  that  wafted  over  Old 
Cayuga,  I  had  begun  to  conceive  the  idea  of 
patriotism,  as  well  as  of  party  prejudice. 

The  memories  of  a  somewhat  later  period  which 
I  am  about  to  set  down  are  not  so  joyous;  they  fill 
me  rather  with  penitence  and  with  a  belated  ap- 
preciation of  my  mother's  rare  patience  and  kind- 
ness. Early  in  her  married  life  my  mother  began 
to  lay  by  every  year  a  little  money  for  each  of  her 
children;  by  the  time  I  was  about  fourteen  years 
old  my  portion  amounted  to  about  $135,  which 
was  invested  in  a  promissory  note  drawing  seven 
per  cent  simple  interest.  You  can  hardly  imagine 
how  bold  a  face  it  took  to  ask  my  mother  for  $15 
of  this  money  with  which  to  purchase  a  skiff. 
Father's  boat  had  gone  to  the  happy  fishing 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     37 

grounds  some  time  before,  and  I  urged  upon  her 
that  we  really  needed  a  boat,  and  I  showed  clearly 
also  —  at  least  it  was  clear  to  my  boyish  mind  — 
that  it  would  be  a  paying  investment  because  I 
could  hire  it  out  to  people  who  lived  back  from 
the  Lake  and  who  frequently  came  down  to  fish. 
When  I  had  persuaded  her  to  give  me  $15  out 
of  her  savings  I  bought  "  The  Oregon,"  a  trim 
little  craft  about  fourteen  feet  long  and  narrow 
on  the  keel.  I  was  not  long  in  discovering  that 
the  little  sail  boats  on  the  Lake  could  pass  me  and 
that  rowing,  while  it  might  be  a  manly  exercise, 
was  laborious.  Thus,  although  I  got  my  boat  and 
it  did  prove  a  p-aying  investment,  the  money  re- 
ceived for  its  hire  never  found  its  way  back  into 
the  savings  fund.  For  it  went  to  pay  for  sail 
cloth,  ropes  and  pulleys  and  in  the  loft  of  the  old 
wagon-house  —  all  secretly,  I  cut  and  sewed  some 
sails.  I  did  not  fully  trust  my  own  seamanship, 
though  I  was  accustomed  to  the  Lake  in  its  variable 
moods,  so  I  induced  my  elder  brother  to  strip  and 
go  in  swimming  with  me.  Then  I  bantered  him 
to  go  with  me  out  into  water  beyond  our  depth, 
upset  the  skiff  and  see  if  both  of  us  could  hold  to 
it  and  ride  on  that  narrow  keel.  Having  done 
this  successfully,  we  tried  to  see  how  far  we  could 


38  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

push  the  boat  by  swimming  with  our  feet  while 
holding  on  with  our  hands.  After  we  were  thus 
prepared  for  squalls  by  becoming  expert  upsetters, 
I  put  in  the  sails  which  were  destined  to  give  my 
mother  many  an  anxious  hour.  In  spite  of  her  ex- 
postulation I  went  out,  at  first  in  light  wind  and 
near  shore,  and  then  in  rougher  weather,  thus 
putting  in  practice  the  advice  of  the  old  rhyme : 

"  Little  boats  should  keep  near  shore 
Larger  ones  may  venture  more." 

But  just  when  I  was  sure  that  I  had  become  an 
experienced  sailor  the  west  wind  one  day  laid  the 
little  craft  on  her  larboard  gunnel  and  I  had  all 
I  could  do  to  save  myself  from  drowning.  My 
mother,  I  think,  was  never  quite  easy  when  I  was 
out  in  this  "  tippy  "  boat  and  I  now  realize  that  I 
was  a  most  inconsiderate  son  in  that  I  kept  her  in 
a  state  of  constant  anxiety.  She  never  forbade 
me  to  sail,  however,  being  one  of  those  wise 
mothers  who  govern  not  by  edicts  but  by  love. 

I  have  related  these  particular  incidents  of  my 
boyhood  because  they  stand  out  most  vividly ;  but 
as  I  look  back  I  think  that  I  was  a  boy  of  "  inci- 
dences," even  more  than  others.  I  have  often 
studied  the  problem  as  to  how  much  liberty  and 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     39 

how  much  restriction  children,  especially  boys, 
should  have;  and  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  freedom  and  mother  love  which  I  enjoyed 
saved  me  from  many  a  temptation  and  from  many 
sinful  acts  —  they  were  the  sheet  anchor  of  my 
boyhood  days.  In  after  life  when  I  had  children 
of  my  own  it  was  a  great  help  to  think  on  the  wise 
management  of  my  dear  mother  and  in  great 
measure  to  put  her  methods  into  practice.  In- 
heritance, freedom,  environment,  restraint,  and 
love  —  each  and  all  in  proper  proportion,  pro- 
foundly affect  the  lives  of  children;  with  me  the 
greatest  of  these  was  love.  I  cannot  remember 
having  brazenly  disobeyed  a  direct  command  of 
my  mother  but  once;  and  I  cannot  express  what 
sorrow  I  felt  for  this  both  then  and  long  after- 
wards. I  have  committed  offences  since  which 
would  be  considered  more  blameworthy  and  which, 
I  trust,  have  been  forgiven  —  for  I  often  pray 
to  be  forgiven  for  the  sins  of  my  youth  —  but  for 
this  sin  against  my  mother  I  could  never  forgive 
myself. 

Something  should  be  said  of  the  country  in 
which  I  spent  my  boyhood  days,  for  my  early 
environment,  I  think,  had  much  to  do  with  the 
trend  of  my  after  life.  From  a  little  west  of 


40  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Albany  on  the  east,  to  and  beyond  Buffalo  on  the 
west,  and  from  the  Great  Lakes  to  the  northern 
line  of  Pennsylvania,  was  situated  a  domain  of 
unbounded  agricultural  capabilities.  It  was  known 
as  the  "  Lake  Country  "  and  it  was  then  considered 
the  garden  spot  of  the  New  world.  It  embraced 
the  valley  of  the  Genesee  river  which  at  that  time 
was  the  center  of  American  wheat  culture. 

It  was  a  region  of  extraordinary  abundance. 
Noble  trees  covered  the  land:  oaks,  sugar-maples, 
beeches  and  a  variety  of  other  woods,  but  the  most 
loved  of  all  in  my  boyhood  was  the  tall,  straight 
liberty  pole,  the  white  ash.  A  score  of  lakes 
diversified  the  landscape  and  stored  the  clear 
waters  of  spring  and  brook  and  tumbling  rivers, 
not  yet  contaminated  with  the  sewage  of  cities. 
In  their  clear  waters  frolicked  myriads  of  edible 
fish,  waiting  only  for  the  farmer's  boy  to  come  and 
catch  them.  The  land  was  overrun  with  wild  ani- 
mals and  with  birds  while  lake  and  stream 
swarmed  with  water-fowl.  The  soil  was  full  of 
humus,  nitrogen,  potash  and  phosphates  of  lime; 
and  the  larder  and  storehouse  and  cellar  were  filled 
with  abundant  and  varied  food  supplies. 

I  will  jot  down  an  incomplete  list  of  the  food 
supplies:  on  our  homestead,  for  instance,  there 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     41 

were  ten  varieties  of  apples,  peaches  to  eat,  to  dry 
and  to  drink  in  the  form  of  brandy;  plums,  pears, 
quinces,  cherries  and  grapes;  wild  strawberries, 
blackberries,  huckleberries,  raspberries  —  both  red 
and  black  —  elderberries  and  cranberries  three 
miles  away  in  the  marsh;  and  currants  and  goose- 
berries besides,  by  the  bushel.  There  were  garden 
vegetables  of  all  the  kinds  then  known :  pumpkins, 
squashes,  beans  and  peas. from  both  field  and  gar- 
den; and  walnuts,  butternuts  and  hickory  nuts  to 
eat  and  to  sell  for  spending  money.  Plenty  of 
game,  too,  especially  squirrels,  black,  red  and  gray ; 
pigeons  in  their  season,  wild  ducks  and  geese  at 
the  foot  of  the  Lake  six  miles  away  and  tame  ones 
in  the  farmyard.  There  was  an  abundance  of  fish 
to  be  had  by  line  or  seine,  to  fry  or  to  salt  down  as 
you  liked ;  wood  for  the  cutting  —  while  I  now  pay 
$10  per  California  cord  —  of  only  100  cubic  feet 
—  or  if  in  stove  length,  $14  per  100  cubic  feet. 

But  J.  G.  Holland  in  his  poem,  "  Bittersweet," 
has  described  this  abundance  better  than  I  can  do : 

"  Go  with  me  to  the  cellar! 
Look  where  you  step  or  you'll  stumble! 
Care  for  your  coat  or  you'll  crock  it! 
Down  with  your  crown,  man,  be  humble! 
Put  your  head  into  your  pocket, 
Else  something  or  other  will  knock  it, 


42  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Don't  hit  the  jar  of  cucumbers 
Standing  on  the  broad  stair! 
They  have  not  waked  from  their  slumbers 
Since  they  stood  there. 

Yet  they  have  lived  in  a  constant  jar! 

What  remarkable  sleepers  they  are! 

Turn  to  the  left  —  shun  the  wall  — 

One  step  more,  that  is  all! 

Now  we  are  safe  on  the  ground 

I  will  show  you  around. 

Sixteen  barrels  of  cider 

Ripening  all  in  a  row! 

Those  delectable  juices 

Flowed  through  the  sinuous  sluices 

Of  sweet  springs  under  the  orchard, 

Climbed  into  fountains  that  chained  them, 

Dripped  into  cups  that  retained  them, 

And  swelled  till  they  dropped  and  we  gained  them, 

When  they  were  gathered  and  tortured 

By  passage  from  hopper  to  vat, 

And  fell  —  every  apple  crushed  flat; 

In  went  the  pulp  by  the  scoop-ful, 

While  the  juice  flowed  by  the  stoop-ful, 

Filling  the  half  of  a  puncheon 

While  the  men  swallowed  their  luncheon. 

Pure  grew  the  stream  with  the  stress 

Of  the  lever  and  screw 

Till  the  last  drops  of  the  press 

Were  as  bright  as  the  dew. 

There  were  the  juices  spilled; 

There  were  the  barrels  filled; 

Sixteen  barrels  of  cider  — 

Ripening  all  in  row!  " 

In  that  same  cellar  of  ours  was  cow-butter, 
apple-butter  and  butter-milk;  great  jars  of  snow- 
white  lard,  a  jar  of  sausage  packed  in  lard  for 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     43 

summer  use;  and  June  butter  in  stone  crocks;  a 
keg  of  maple  syrup  made  at  the  close  of  the  run 
when  granulation  ceases ;  and  a  barrel  full  of  great 
cakes  of  tallow.  There  was  always,  too,  twenty 
or  more  six-quart  pans  of  milk,  some  of  which  was 
served  at  every  meal  with  the  cream  stirred  in. 

The  clean  was  separated  from  the  unclean,  for 
there  were  two  cellars,  one  for  the  prepared  foods 
and  one  for  the  winter  supply  of  fruits  and  veg- 
etables and  salted  meats.  Besides  the  vegetables, 
tubers  and  fruits,  there  was  vinegar;  and  by  way 
of  meats,  pork,  hams,  beef  and  fish,  all  salted  away 
for  future  needs.  As  I  go  into  my  own  cellar  now 
it  makes  me  sad  if  I  chance  to  think  of  that  cellar 
of  my  boyhood :  here  is  only  a  few  paper  sacks,  a 
few  tinned  goods,  a  quart  of  milk,  six  eggs,  a  peck 
of  potatoes  and  a  pound  of  bacon  which  cost 
thirty-five  cents ! 

Upstairs  in  my  mother's  house,  there  was  an 
ample  pantry  in  which  there  were  jellies  and  jams, 
and,  best  of  all,  preserves  galore  — "  pound  for 
pound  " —  mighty  filling  at  10  p.  m.,  on  our  return 
from  spelling  school  on  a  cold  winter  night.  In 
a  place  all  by  itself  in  the  pantry  there  was  wheat, 
buckwheat  and  rye  flour,  corn-meal  and  hominy, 
coarse  and  fine  middlings  —  the  products  of  ten 


44  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

bushels  of  grains  which  had  been  ground  in  the 
water  grist-mill  where  they  took  every  tenth  bushel 
for  grinding. 

I  am  near  forgetting  the  loft  under  the  low  roof 
near  the  chamber  where  we  boys  slept.  Here  were 
stored  bags  in  numbers,  big  and  little,  filled  with  all 
kinds  of  dried  fruits  and  even  dried  vegetables. 

Here  too,  were  strained  honey  and  beeswax, 
which,  all  surreptitiously,  we  nibbled  and  chewed 
in  weak  imitation  of  our  elders  who  chewed  to- 
bacco; and  great  cakes  of  maple  sugar  matrixed 
in  milk  pans  and  piled  one  upon  another  in  new, 
clean  barrels. 

Out  in  the  smoke-house  was  dried  beef  —  hams 
and  shoulders,  bacon  and  sausage,  and  unjacketed 
bull-pouts  which  had  been  smoked  with  corn  cobs 
and  hickory  chips  to  give  them  the  desired  flavor. 
Near  by  stood  the  great  out-door  oven  in  which 
all  sorts  of  good  things  were  baked,  once  each 
week;  and  they  tasted  mighty  good  to  me  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  I  had  to  split  the  kindling  wood 
for  the  oven  from  the  remnants  of  old  basswood 
rails.  As  if  this  were  not  enough  great  pits  of 
apples,  cabbages  and  beets,  turnips  and  carrots, 
were  buried  in  the  garden  for  spring  use,  for  many 
of  the  things  in  the  cellar  would  in  time  become 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     45 

wilted  and  specked.  No  pen  can  do  justice  to  this 
land  of  abundance  though  half  a  score  of  hungry 
children  could. 

With  such  an  abundant  food  supply  and  with  so 
rich  a  soil,  every  living  creature,  man  included, 
had  a  strong  bony  and  muscular  structure.  So 
among  the  many  things  for  which  I  am  thankful 
is  the  circumstance  that  my  boyhood  was  spent 
in  that  land  of  well-balanced  plenty  before  the 
cream  of  the  soil  had  been  filched  from  it.  Dr. 
Thomas  D.  Wood,  formerly  the  Professor  of 
Hygiene  at  Stanford  University,  now  at  Columbia 
University,  Teachers  College,  once  informed  me 
that  the  students  of  Stanford  University  who  were 
born  and  reared  in  the  State  of  California  were 
markedly  taller  and  heavier  on  the  average  than 
those  from  the  East.  What  complexions,  what 
bloom  on  the  cheeks,  these  western  women  have, 
where  hats  are  dispensed  with  most  of  the  time 
during  the  nine  summer  months !  What  a  firm, 
elastic  stride,  that  carries  them  over  the  foothills 
and  up  the  mountain  side,  through  tangled  glen 
and  stony  canyon  with  the  minimum  of  fatigue 
and  the  maximum  of  joy  that  only  comes  from  re- 
serve physical  power.  Unquestionably  the  quality 
of  foods  gives  size  and  strength,  health  and  vigor, 
both  to  mankind  and  to  domesticated  animals. 


46  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

In  a  valley  in  Italy  it  has  been  noted  by  travellers 
that  the  people  were  prematurely  decrepit,  due  to 
the  lack  of  the  normal  bony  structure.  The  analy- 
sis of  hay,  given  below  shows  conclusively  a  serious 
lack  of  bone-making  material,  and  if  it  was  lacking 
in  the  hay,  then  we  must  conclude  that  nearly  all 
of  the  foods  of  the  people  were  also  deficient. 


COMPOSITION  OF  HAY, 
POUNDS  IN  1,000 


Ash 

Nitro- 
gen 

Phos- 
phate 

Pot- 
ash 

Best  American  meadow 
hay,  141  samples 

71    A. 

IQ.2 

4.8 

15.2 

European  meadow  hay, 
where  men  and  ani- 
mals are  weak-boned 
and  under-sized 

I  x  •  T 

4.Z    C 

14..  4. 

2.3 

*•  D  '  ' 
12.  0 

TJ  '  J 

It  is  evident  that  American  farmers  cannot  con- 
tinue to  deplete  the  land  of  its  most  valuable  con- 
stituents without  endangering  the  size  and  the  phy- 
sical power  of  coming  generations.  I  trust  that 
the  Agricultural  Colleges  and  Experiment  Stations 
will  teach  them  how  to  restore  the  land  to  its 
pristine  richness,  so  that  our  posterity  may  not  be 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS    47 

of  so  slight  and  delicate  a  type  and  the  alimentary 
canal  so  undeveloped  that  they  cannot  bear  the 
burdens  of  this  strenuous  modern  world.  "  Tell 
me  what  you  eat  and  I  will  tell  you  what  manner 
of  man  you  are,"  is  an  old  saying.  But  tell  me 
what  the  soil  is,  and  I  will  tell  you  the  quality  of 
the  men  and  animals  which  will  be  produced  from 
the  foods  raised  upon  it. 

I  see  those  healthy  country  girls  of  the  early 
nineteenth  century,  yet;  dressed  in  "  store  goods  " 
—  calico  or  gingham  —  protected  by  white  or 
colored  aprons,  with  a  little  home-made  lace  to 
set  off  their  rounded  necks  and  with  quite  undis- 
torted  forms ;  although  work  had  made  their  hands 
large  and  strong  their  faces  revealed  a  well 
nourished  body,  a  cheerful  temper  and  the  habits 
of  right  living.  If  the  world  was  not  better  in 
those  days,  it  was  certainly  more  natural.  We 
of  the  first  half  of  the  last  century  had  more  man- 
ual exercise  than  our  grandchildren  but  the  pity 
bestowed  on  us  for  our  hard  pioneer  conditions 
might  better  be  given  to  the  shop  and  factory 
workers  of  today. 

I  have  been  a  pioneer  in  three  fertile  new  states 
in  my  time,  but  I  have  yet  to  see  a  country  so 
liberally  supplied  with  the  bounties  of  life,  or  a 


48  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

people  so  sturdy,  productive  and  self-reliant,  as 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Lake  Country  in  New  York, 
in  the  second  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
My  uncle,  Thomas  Burroughs,  my  father  Aaron 
P.  Roberts,  and  our  nearest  neighbor,  Michael 
Ritter,  owned  adjoining  farms  together  compris- 
ing between  four  and  five  hundred  acres.  There 
were  born  to  these  three  heads  of  families  thirty- 
two  children,  only  one  of  whom  died  before  reach- 
ing the  age  of  thirty,  and  that  one  lost  his  life  in 
the  battle  of  Bull  Run.  These  children  were  all 
strong  and  capable;  some  of  them  rose  to  places 
of  modest  distinction,  all  of  them  were  law-abiding 
and  temperate  in  habits  of  living  and  thought,  and 
most  of  them  received  all  or  nearly  all  of  their 
school  education  in  the  schools  of  the  district  and 
in  the  nearby-academies.  Besides  those  mentioned, 
twelve  other  families  resided  in  our  school  district 
but  I  would  not  have  it  inferred  that  each  of  these 
furnished  an  equal  quota  to  the  school,  for  if  so, 
there  would  have  been  at  least  eighty  pupils  while 
there  were,  in  fact,  only  sixty  on  the  rolls  even  in 
winter. 

During  the  last  fifteen  years  the  occupiers  of 
these  three  homesteads  just  mentioned  have  fur- 
nished only  two  pupils  for  this  school  a  part  of 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     49 

the  time,  while  the  whole  number  of  pupils  ranges 
in  summer  from  eight  to  twelve.  I  cannot  explain 
altogether  the  causes  of  this  change  in  District 
No.  8.  The  farms  are  not  deserted,  only  some- 
what less  productive  and  somewhat  more  expensive 
to  till;  but  I  believe  that  the  low  price  of  farm 
products,  especially  of  wheat,  our  staple  crop,  has 
had  much  to  do  with  this  decadence,  since  for 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  wheat  has  sold 
on  an  average  in  New  York  for  less  than  $i  per 
bushel,  while  the  cost  of  production  under  the  local 
conditions  has  become  one  dollar  and  a  quarter  or 
more.  It  should  be  remembered  that  wheat  sold 
in  1818  for  $3.00  per  bushel  in  this  very  locality. 
I  have  recently  been  making  an  extended  investi- 
gation of  the  cost  of  producing  a  bushel  of  wheat 
in  various  parts  of  the  country  and  it  is  my  opinion 
that  the  lack  of  profit  in  wheat  growing  has  been 
an  important  factor  in  the  decline  of  the  birth  rate 
and  at  the  same  time  it  has  been  the  cause  of  the 
westward  migration  of  the  more  adventurous 
members  of  the  population.  Nevertheless  the  land 
from  which  products  have  for  so  long  been  sold 
for  less  than  the  true  cost  of  production  —  figured 
at  a  fair  wage  and  with  deduction  for  loss  of  pro- 
ducing power  —  is  still  worthy  of  the  plowman's 


50  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

steel.  Now  that  consumption  is  out-running  pro- 
duction it  may  be  hoped  that  the  land  and  its  own- 
ers will  come  into  their  own  again  —  when  people 
have  a  waiting  appetite  the  men  who  hold  the  loaf 
are  masters  of  the  situation. 

We  have  not  yet  realized  how  profoundly  food 
supply  and  demand  have  affected  our  national  life 
nor  how  it  is  destined  to  affect  us  in  the  future. 
The  central  thought  in  those  long  years  at  Cor- 
nell University  and  the  faith  which  held  me  true 
to  my  work,  was  that  food  is  the  first  requirement 
of  life.  Some  morning  these  United  States  will 
wake  up  with  a  sharp  appetite  for  breakfast  and 
then  the  farmer  may  have  something  to  say  as  to 
the  price  that  shall  be  given  for  his  products  — 
if  he  can  partially  eliminate  the  middleman.  I 
have  long  expected  that  the  era  of  high-priced 
foods  would  come  upon  us,  and  now  that  it  is  here 
I  rejoice  over  it.  For  when  a  product  is  sold  in 
the  market  for  less  than  a  fair  profit  over  the  cost 
of  production,  both  producer  and  consumer  suffer. 

It  was  only  about  fifteen  years  ago  that  a  farmer 
brought  a  wagon-box  full  of  potatoes  to  Ithaca 
which  he  could  neither  sell  nor  trade  for  groceries. 
Disgusted  beyond  measure,  he  slipped  out  the  end- 
board  of  the  wagon,  cracked  his  whip  and  drove 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     51 

rapidly  through  the  streets  and  up  west  hill ;  long 
before  he  had  reached  the  top  his  potatoes  had 
disappeared  and,  gazing  back,  he  remarked:  "I 
couldn't  look  those  overfed  city  chaps  in  the  face 
while  those  beautiful  potatoes  were  staring  at  me 
with  their  innocent  eyes."  This  is  an  extreme 
illustration  of  one  of  the  causes  which  has  driven 
the  country  boy  from  the  farm  and  which  has  also 
led  the  farmer  to  neglect  to  keep  up  the  productive 
ability  of  the  soil. 

There  is  one  great  and  ever  present  natural  law 
which  modifies  reproduction,  at  least  in  mammals. 
If  food  is  scarce  and  environment  unkind  the  age 
of  puberty  is  postponed  and  reproduction  is  lim- 
ited, as  among  Indians  and  other  primitive  races 
in  severe  climates  and  where  food  is  insufficient. 
The  Esquimo  has  not  been  destroyed  by  war  and 
not  until  recently  decimated  by  diseases,  yet 
throughout  the  ages  they  have  multiplied  but 
slowly.  If  environment  is  made  comfortable  — 
not  luxurious  —  and  an  abundance  of  wholesome, 
not  too  concentrated  food  is  provided,  reproduc- 
tion tends  to  rise  in  proportion ;  while  at  the  other 
extreme,  if  environment  is  too  easy,  too  luxurious, 
reproduction  again  declines.  This  is  a  law  as  true 
of  the  genus  homo  as  it  is  of  the  genus  sus  scrofa. 


52  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

As  to  materials  for  clothing  in  my  boyhood 
there  was  scarcely  less  abundance  than  there  was 
of  food  supplies.  The  woods  were  full  of  small 
fur-bearing  animals;  the  beef  hides  were  waiting 
to  be  exchanged  for  leather;  the  wool,  both  white 
and  black,  to  be  shorn  from  the  heavy  sheep; 
feathers  and  down  to  be  plucked  when  ripe  from 
the  noisy  geese  and  ducks;  and  better  than  all, 
the  flax  in  its  bloom. 

The  children  were  well  and  warmly  clad  in 
stoutly  made  if  not  always  perfectly  fitting  clothes. 
One  of  my  earliest  memories  is  of  a  pair  of  new 
shoes  which  I  proudly  put  on  in  the  kitchen  where 
they  had  been  made  by  a  travelling  cobbler.  The 
uppers  were  made  from  my  father's,  or  perhaps 
my  eldest  brother's,  boot-tops  —  for  men  always 
wore  boots  while  boys,  girls  and  women  wore 
shoes  which  were  sometimes  made  from  cast-off 
boot-tops.  The  art  of  splitting  leather  was  then 
unknown.  The  travelling  shoemaker  might  be 
with  us  two  or  three  weeks  in  the  fall  or  early 
winter,  and  he  was  very  welcome,  especially  to  the 
boys.  While  he  told  us  lots  of  new  stories  and 
brought  to  us  the  flavor  of  the  outside  world,  he 
also  gave  us  a  chance  to  lay  in  a  store  of  waxed 
ends  with  which  to  sew  leather  covers  on  our  home- 
made baseballs  which  were  of  woolen  yarn  ravelled 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     53 

from  the  tops  of  discarded  stockings.  Although 
the  tops  of  those  long,  hand-knit  stockings  were  re- 
footed,  often  more  than  once,  the  time  came  when 
they  were  not  worth  repairing  and  then  they 
were  handed  over  to  the  boys.  Sometimes,  I  must 
confess  we  did  not  even  wait  for  the  re-footing. 

I  remember  I  went  out  to  try  my  new  shoes  in 
the  new-fallen  snow.  The  older  boys  knew,  as  I 
did  not,  that  new  shoe  soles  are  a  slippery,  treach- 
erous underpinning,  so  they  and  the  dog  went 
along  to  see  the  fun.  After  I  had  gone  down 
several  times  they  set  the  dog  on  me  and  then  the 
real  fun  began,  for  as  I  got  up  the  dog  would 
push  me  over  with  his  playful  antics.  Queer, 
isn't  it,  that  I  can  remember  every  detail  of  those 
shoes,  the  mischievous  joy  of  my  brothers  and  even 
the  color  of  the  dog,  yet  I  forget  many  of  the 
transactions  of  yesterday ! 

My  father  always  wore  a  grayish-colored,  tall 
stiff  hat  in  shape  much  like  the  silk  hats  of  the 
present  day.  In  the  top  of  the  crown  he  carried 
letters  and  other  valuable  papers  —  I  say  other, 
because  letters  were  then  precious  —  which  were 
held  down  or  up  by  a  highly  colored  silk  or  cotton 
handkerchief.  His  coat,  with  collar  built  high 
and  reinforced  with  buckram,  was  a  long  cut-a-way 


54  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

— "  Shadbelly."  The  vest  was  long  and  ample; 
the  breeches  were  loose  (held  up  by  knit  sus- 
penders, even  the  buttonholes  being  knit  in)  and 
cut  in  a  fashion  far  more  modest  than  modern 
trousers.  His  high  shirt  collar  was  lightly  starched 
and  fell  naturally  over  a  stiff,  high  stock,  held  in 
place  by  a  buckle. 

When  riding  out  of  daors  in  winter  every  man 
was  provided  with  a  soft  knit  muffler  a  foot  wide 
and  nearly  two  yards  long.  Muffs  were  common 
while  the  foot-stove  was  a  necessary  comfort  for 
any  long  drive.  Most  men,  however,  did  not  wear 
the  stiff  silk  hat  but  caps  made  of  cloth,  or  coon  or 
squirrel  skin.  While  these  were  worn  by  boys  also 
I  cannot  remember  ever  to  have  had  one;  for  in 
my  time  we  could  purchase  "  cap-peaks  "  which 
were  stitched  in  between  the  lining  and  the  body  of 
the  home-made  cap  of  cloth,  perhaps  the  well-pre- 
served part  of  an  old  coat.  In  winter  we  boys  all 
wore  knit  caps  with  a  flowing  tassel  at  the  top. 
For  dress-up  on  Sunday  in  summer  men  wore 
white  linen  pants  as  late  as  1850.  Our  underwear 
was  tow,  linen  or  wool  according  to  season,  but  by 
1850  cotton  had  come  to  be  generally  used. 

It  is  certainly  marvellous  how  in  one  generation, 
the  New  York  pioneers  changed  from  homespun 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     55 

clothes,  coonskin  caps  and  shoes  made  from  boot- 
tops,  to  Congress  gaiters,  patent  leather  shoes, 
"  Prince  Albert "  or  black  long  frock  coats  and 
silk  hats  —  for  these  were  my  Sunday  and  party 
garments  when  I  reached  the  age  of  twenty-one. 
In  the  same  generation  the  farmers  gave  up  the 
ox-cart  and  farm  wagon  and  began  to  ride  in  top 
carriages  which  cost  from  $125  to  $175.  We 
were  not  unlike  other  fortunate  peoples,  settled  in 
a  district  of  unbounded  natural  resources  which 
required  relatively  little  skill  to  transform  into 
articles  of  use  and  luxury. 

But  some  of  this  transformation  demanded  both 
skill  and  hard  work.  Did  you  ever  pull  flax? 
Linum  usitatissimum?  That  word  may  be  a  jaw- 
breaker but  be  assured  it  is  not  half  so  hard  for 
jaws  as  pulling  flax  was  for  my  back!  Just  about 
the  time  we  ceased  to  raise  flax  a  machine  was 
invented  for  pulling  it.  Of  course  we  could  have 
cut  it  with  the  grain  cradle  but  the  fibre  would  have 
then  been  too  short  for  use.  The  little  sheaves 
of  flax  were  threshed  in  the  early  fall  by  beating 
them  on  a  large  flat  stone  tilted  at  about  an  angle 
°f  35  degrees;  afterward  the  threshed  material 
was  spread  one  to  two  inches  thick  in  well-ordered 
swaths  on  the  grass  of  some  meadow.  In  from 


56  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

three  to  four  weeks,  during  which  it  had  been 
turned  several  times,  it  had  become  sufficiently 
rotted  and  was  then  bound  in  large  bundles  and 
stored  in  the  barn.  Early  in  the  following  spring, 
on  some  crisp,  windy  day,  a  portion  of  the  straw 
was  spread  out  in  the  sun  and  wind  preparatory 
to  being  run  through  the  brake.  The  lower  part 
of  the  brake  consisted  of  four  hardwood  boards 
set  in  a  heavy  frame  about  four  feet  long,  each 
sharpened  on  the  upper  edge  and  fastened,  closer 
in  front  than  at  the  back,  in  two  blocks  of  wood 
which  were  furnished  with  suitable  legs.  The  up- 
per part  was  made  in  a  similar  manner  except  that 
there  were  only  three  sharpened  boards  set  in 
smaller  blocks  and  so  placed  that  the  upper  bars 
would  mis-match  with  the  lower  ones.  The  rear 
block  or  head  served  also  as  a  hinge  which  per- 
mitted the  front  end  to  be  raised  or  lowered. 

The  operator,  with  as  much  straw  as  he  could 
hold  in  his  left  hand,  raised  the  brake,  thrust  the 
flax  first  under  the  rear  end  where  the  spaces  were 
largest  between  the  sharpened  boards,  then  let  the 
top  or  swinging  part  of  the  brake  fall  upon  it. 
This  process  repeated  caused  the  woody  parts  to 
drop  away  from  the  fine  fibre.  The  flax  had  still 
to  be  "  scutched,"  that  is,  dressed  over  a  sharpened 


INDUSTRIAL  AND  SOCIAL  CONDITIONS     57 

board  with  a  wooden  sword,  which  further  re- 
moved the  woody  fibre.  Then  it  was  hatcheled  or 
"  heckled  "  which  carried  the  operation  of  elimi- 
nating the  woody  fibre  to  a  finish.  The  material 
which  remained  was  called  linen,  and  a  hank  of  it 
looked  not  unlike  a  fluffy,  light-blond  switch  of 
hair.  That  part  which  the  hatchel  combed  out 
of  the  linen  at  first  was  "  tow,"  suitable  for  mak- 
ing ropes;  and  that  combed  out  later  was  spun  into 
yarn  and  used  as  filling  in  making  tow  and  linen 
cloth. 

The  process  by  which  wool  was  prepared  for 
weaving  was  less  laborious.  The  wool  was  first 
washed  on  the  backs  of  the  sheep  and  the  day  on 
which  that  was  done  was  looked  forward  to  by 
the  children  with  joyous  anticipation.  Then  it  was 
tub-washed  and  picked  apart  by  hand.  A  part  of 
the  white  wool  was  mixed  with  about  one-fourth 
of  its  bulk  of  black  wool  to  make  sheep's  gray  cloth 
or  yarn;  while  the  balance  was  left  in  its  natural 
color.  If  pure  black  or  variegated  colors  were  de- 
sired the  yarn  was  dyed.  The  wool  was  then 
treated  with  melted  lard  and  picked  a  second  time 
making  it  ready  for  the  cards,  which  by  skillful 
manipulation  formed  it  into  rolls  ready  for 
spinning. 


58  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

In  addition  to  the  instruments  for  preparing  the 
flax  there  was  much  other  machinery :  a  rope-yarn 
wheel,  for  my  father  made  all  the  rope  used  on  the 
farm  which  was  not  a  little ;  a  tow  and  flax  wheel ; 
the  large  wheel  for  spinning  wool;  the  swifts  for 
forming  the  yarn  into  skeins ;  and  the  quill  wheel. 
In  my  time  most  of  the  weaving  was  done  by  pro- 
fessional weavers  at  their  homes  at  a  stipulated 
price  per  yard.  In  later  years  the  wool  prepared 
for  the  cards  was  sent  to  the  factory  where  it  was 
transformed  either  into  yarn  for  stockings  and 
mittens  or  into  cloth.  At  a  still  later  period  the 
unprepared  wool  was  traded  for  cloth  and  yarn. 

In  the  fall,  my  mother  would  go  to  Seneca  Falls 
and  purchase  cloth  for  the  grown-ups  and  buttons 
and  linings.  Then  with  a  great  roll  of  sheep's 
gray  and  a  sleigh  or  wagon-load  of  children  she 
proceeded  to  the  nearest  approved  tailor  where 
we  were  all  measured  for  our  outside  winter  cloth- 
ing. Then  there  came  to  the  house  two  or  three 
seamstresses  who  would  make  up  the  cut-out  gar- 
ments in  from  two  to  four  weeks.  Sometimes  they 
were  directed  to  cut  off  some  of  the  old  trousers 
legs  above  the  knee,  rip  the  seams  and  re-sew  them 
with  the  fronts  of  the  legs  behind  and  the  backs  in 
front.  That  deferred  the  time  when  someone  had 


EDUCATION  59 

"  to  piece  a  patch,  to  patch  a  patch,  to  patch  a  pair 
of  trousers-knee." 

With  ribbed  mittens,  long  thick  stockings,  new 
shoes  and  over-socks  for  warmth,  a  large  fluffy 
muffler,  a  new  suit  warmly  lined  and  often  padded, 
we  met  the  on-coming  winter  blasts  without  a 
shiver,  although  we  seldom  wore  overcoats. 

Being  only  a  farm  kid  I  cannot  remember  dis- 
tinctly what  the  girls  and  women  wore.  Their 
underwear  was  of  necessity  of  tow  and  linen  in 
summer  and  some  kind  of  thick  wool  in  winter. 
They  wore  linsey-woolsey  skirts,  while  their  outer 
garments  were  of  wool,  home-produced,  or  calico 
or  gingham  or,  for  the  best  dress  of  the  well-to-do 
women,  silk.  It  was  the  invariable  custom  for  the 
purchaser  of  a  farm  to  make  a  present  of  a  dress 
to  the  wife  or  eldest  daughter  of  the  seller.  If  the 
amount  of  the  realty  was  large,  a  silk  dress;  if 
small  then  a  gingham  dress,  discharged  the  obli- 
gation demanded  by  the  custom  of  the  country. 

EDUCATION 

My  mother  taught  me  to  read  and  to  figure  up 
to  and  including  the  multiplication  table.  Often 
my  lesson  was  learned  before  the  winter  daylight 
broke  by  the  great  fireplace,  while  she  was  knitting 


60  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

stockings  —  or  socks  and  mittens  —  for  a  score  of 
feet  and  legs,  and  as  many  hands.  For  many  years 
there  was  only  one  pair  of  hands  to  do  all  these 
things,  but  the  stockings  were  always  symmetrically 
narrowed  down  at  the  toe  and  heel  and  the  thumbs 
of  the  mittens  fitted  almost  as  perfectly  as  a  mod- 
ern glove. 

Like  all  the  other  children  of  the  neighborhood 
I  was  kept  steadily  in  school  both  winter  and  sum- 
mer until  I  was  about  twelve  years  of  age;  after 
that  I  helped  on  the  farm  in  summer  and  went  to 
school  in  winter.  In  our  home  there  was  always 
a  school  atmosphere  and  in  winter  the  great 
kitchen  was  turned  into  an  evening  school-room, 
the  older  children  helping  the  younger  ones  in  their 
studies.  Sometimes  in  the  spring  when  the  land 
was  not  yet  fit  for  tilling  and  my  brothers1  schools 
were  closed,  the  carpet  was  removed  from  the  par- 
lor and  a  cousin  of  ours  —  a  graduate  of  Yale  — 
was  employed  to  teach  us  all.  This  extra  home 
school  continued  for  a  month  or  more  but  it  was 
always  closed  as  soon  as  the  land  was  fit  for  the 
plow. 

In  the  district  school  house  which  was  located  on 
a  stony  hog-back  and  which  has  long  since  been 
destroyed,  I  learned  at  least  one  valuable  lesson. 


EDUCATION  61 

Long  writing  tables  were  arranged  around  three 
sides  of  the  room  against  the  wall.  In  front  of 
these  were  seats  for  the  larger  pupils  and  in  front 
of  these  seats  were  the  backless  benches  for  the 
kids  —  in  those  heathen  days  we  called  them 
"trucklebed  trash."  These  benches  were  made  of 
heavy  oak  slabs  with  four,  straddling,  pin-like  legs, 
and  were  placed  just  in  front  of  the  great  ten-plate 
heating  stove.  When  it  got  too  hot  the  little  fel- 
lows crowded  to  the  end  of  the  bench  and  not  in- 
frequently someone  got  shoved  off  onto  the  floor. 
Then  came  the  laugh  and  the  reckoning — "for 
going  to  sleep  and  falling  off  the  bench."  The 
boys  caught  me  napping  once  and  the  teacher 
awakened  me  by  blistering  the  seat  of  my  breeches. 
After  that  I  swung  my  feet  against  the  big  side 
bench  and  braced;  and  discovered  for  the  first  time 
what  happens  when  an  irresistible  force  meets  an 
immovable  body  —  the  irresistible  received  just 
punishment  and  the  immovable  escaped.  Ever 
since  then  I  have  known  enough  to  brace  when 
things  or  men  scrouge. 

I  used  to  envy  a  big  boy  who  had  purloined  a 
broken-bottom  Windsor  chair  from  the  kitchen  at 
home,  and  recovering  it  with  a  soft  woolly  sheep- 
skin, had  placed  it  in  a  cozy  corner  of  the  school 


62  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

room,  while  I  had  to  sit  on  the  soft  side  of  an  oak 
slab,  in  front  of  that  stove  as  hot  as  the  lower 
regions,  with  my  feet  at  least  four  inches  from  the 
floor.  In  summer  time  my  legs  served  as  roosts 
for  flies  while  I  was  planning  how  to  catch  that 
chipmunk  which  had  his  hole  just  six  panels  from 
the  bars  which  opened  into  the  cow  pasture.  No 
wonder  I  was  regarded  as  the  intellectual  black- 
sheep  of  our  family ! 

The  details  of  my  early  school  life  will  scarcely 
interest  you  since  my  studies  did  not  interest  me, 
but  all  nine  of  the  children  in  our  family  were 
successful  teachers  at  one  time  or  another,  and 
notwithstanding  I  was  the  slow  one,  I  also  made 
the  "  riffle  "  at  last  This  exceptional  interest  in 
education  may  be  attributed  to  my  mother's  ambi- 
tion. I  once  heard  her  say:  "  I  received  a  better 
education  than  my  parents  did,  and  come  what 
may,  I  am  determined  to  give  my  children  a  better 
education  than  I  have."  And  because  she  worked 
and  saved  and  sacrificed  to  make  her  words  come 
true,  I  have  striven  to  do  the  same  for  the  next 
generation. 

When  I  was  about  fourteen  years  old  I  had  to 
go  back  into  the  summer  school  because  I  had 
fallen  behind  —  having  become,  as  they  said,  too 
fond  of  the  lake  and  the  woods  and  the  chipmunks. 


EDUCATION  63 

Two  consecutive  terms  under  a  rarely  good 
teacher,  took  me  far  beyond  vulgar  fractions,  the 
point  at  which  I  had  usually  arrived  when  school 
closed  every  spring;  and  by  the  end  of  the  next 
winter  term  I  could  exclaim  with  one  of  Edward 
Eggleston's  characters :  "  Lay  there,  Old  Pike- 
Davis  and  Thompson's  Higher  and  show  me  an 
example  that  I  cannot  do!  " 

The  educational  facilities  and  the  teaching  were 
uniformly  good  in  our  locality,  according  to  the 
standards  of  the  time,  although  both  education 
and  religion  were  informed  more  with  the  letter 
than  the  spirit.  There  was  an  atmosphere  of  cul- 
tural and  intellectual  activities,  stimulated  not  only 
by  frequent  spelling  schools,  debating  clubs,  and 
singing  schools,  but  also  by  evening  gatherings 
where  difficult  mental  examples  were  propounded 
- —  riddles,  charades  and  rebusses,  catch-word  say- 
ings, and  highly  moral  as  well  as  foolish  and 
laughable  things,  both  in  prose  and  rhyme. 

Here  are  a  few  of  these  old  puzzles  on  which 
we  whetted  our  minds: 

A  HARD  ONE 
I  am  disposed  to  plant  a  grove 
To  satisfy  the  maid  I  love: 
This  ample  grove  must  be  composed 
Of  nineteen  trees  in  nine  straight  rows; 


64  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Five  in  a  row  I  there  must  place 
Or  ne'er  expect  to  see  her  face. 
Ye  men  of  art,  lend  me  your  aid 
To  satisfy  this  curious  maid ! 

AN  EASIER  ONE 

"  Somebody  take  the  basket  and  bring  me  just  one 
apple  from  the  orchard.  How  many  apples  must  you 
start  with  so  that  you  can  leave  half  the  apples  you 
have  and  half  an  apple  more  at  the  first  gate,  and  at 
the  second  gate  dp  the  same,  and  at  the  third  and  last 
gate  repeat  the  division  of  apples  as  before  and  bring 
me  the  one  apple  that  is  left." 

FOR  THE  LITTLE  BOYS  WHO  LOVE  FISHING 
"  If  a  herring  and  a  half  cost  a  cent  and  a  half,  what 

will  five  herring  and  a  half  cost  ?  " 

"  If  the  third  of  six  be  three,  what  will  the  fourth  of 

twenty  be?" 

HARVESTING  APPLES  AND  PEARS 
"  There  was  a  man  who  had  no  eyes 
And  he  went  out  to  view  the  skies; 
He  saw  an  apple  tree  had  apples  on, 
He  took  no  apples  off  nor  left  no  apples  on." 

"Twelve  men  riding  by,  twelve  pears  hanging  high; 
Each  man  took  a  pear  and  left  eleven  hanging  there." 

"  Spell  '  sink  '  (cinque),  meaning  five." 

Then  there  were  Aesop's  Fables  in  rhyme  —  I 
could  fill  pages  with  them;  and  with  a  multitude 
of  little  "  tangles  "  which  had  been  handed  down 
from  the  time  of  the  Pilgrims.  One  of  the  most 


EDUCATION  65 

laughable  entertainments  was  a  debate  —  in  imita- 
tion of  our  elders  —  conducted  by  a  dozen  boys  on 
the  subject:  "Which  is  the  worst  —  a  scolding 
wife  or  a  smoky  chimney?" 

This  may  appear  silly  to  the  reader,  but  it  was 
a  part  of  our  life,  of  my  life.  Crude  as  it  was,  it 
taught  me  to  love  and  to  commit  to  memory  many 
things,  sad  and  gay,  solid  and  trivial,  which  were 
expressed  in  rhyme ;  and  it  taught  me  also  to  speak 
somewhat  easily  on  my  feet.  I  understand  that  in 
some  of  the  schools  to-day  pupils  are  not  allowed 
to  learn  the  alphabet  or  to  memorize  the  multipli- 
cation table.  I  presume  this  accounts  for  the  fact 
that  many  college  students,  in  multiplying  a  num- 
ber by  twelve,  do  so  by  first  multiplying  by  the  two 
and  then  by  the  one,  instead  of  by  a  single  opera- 
tion. The  men  of  my  day  got  there  quicker  —  as, 
for  instance,  Mr.  Henry  B.  Lord,  the  Cashier  of 
the  Bank  of  Ithaca,  who  had  learned  the  multipli- 
cation table  up  to  the  twentieth  line  and  could  add 
two  columns  at  a  time,  accurately  and  swiftly. 
The  new  method  may  account  too  for  the  fact 
that  so  many  pupils  in  the  modern  schools  have 
difficulty  in  finding  a  word  in  the  dictionary  — 
they  have  not  learned  the  letters  of  the  alphabet 
consecutively. 
3 


66  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Within  one  or  two  days*  drive  of  our  town  there 
were  ten  academies,  perhaps,  of  a  grade  equal  to 
the  small  colleges  of  to-day :  and,  while  they  did 
not  teach  as  many  things  as  the  colleges  do  now,  I 
am  certain  that  they  gave  better  training  and  were 
more  insistent  upon  good  work. 

Very  few  boys  went  to  college,  so  that  all  the 
higher  education  most  of  us  had  was  secured  in 
these  academies.  I  base  my  judgment  of  them  on 
the  class  of  men  they  sent  forth.  By  the  time  I 
was  fitted  to  enter  an  academy  the  State  had  organ- 
ized normal  departments  in  them ;  and  by  pledging 
myself  to  devote  a  reasonable  portion  of  my  time 
after  graduation  to  teaching,  I  obtained  free  tui- 
tion. I  certainly  kept  my  agreement,  for  I  taught 
seven  winters  in  public  and  common  schools  and 
over  thirty-three  years  in  college  and  University  in 
the  course  of  my  after  life. 

It  was  the  custom  in  large  and  ambitious  fami- 
lies to  keep  one  or  more  children  at  some  acad- 
emy, at  least  during  the  winter,  provisioning  them 
weekly  from  the  farm.  As  rooms  and  fuel  were 
cheap  and  the  students  did  their  own  cooking,  this 
was  a  satisfactory  and  inexpensive  way  of  educat- 
ing children  far  beyond  the  common  school.  But 
even  the  common  schools  were  more  advanced  and 


OUR  PLEASURES  67 

more  generally  attended  than  now.  Indeed,  these 
pioneer  people  laid  almost  as  much  stress  upon 
"  schooling  "  as  upon  manual  dexterity  and  willing- 
ness to  work. 

I  recall  an  instance  which  proves  this  point: 
three  substantial  farmers  were  elected  school  trus- 
tees and  two  of  them  drove  twelve  miles  to  inter- 
view a  teacher  of  wide  reputation.  The  teacher 
said  that  he  presumed  the  salary  he  asked  would 
be  too  high,  considering  the  wages  they  were  accus- 
tomed to  paying.  One  trustee  —  an  unlettered 
Pennsylvania  Dutchman  —  said  to  the  other: 
"  Burroughs,  the  folks  won't  stand  that  salary, 
but  can't  you  and  I  pay  the  excess  out  of  our  own 
pockets  ?  "  And  they  did !  The  grandson  of  that 
Dutchman  was  superintendent  of  the  schools  of 
Stockton,  California,  for  many  years,  and  two  of 
his  great-grandsons  are  distinguished  graduates 
of  leading  Universities. 

OUR  PLEASURES 

Was  farm  life  lonely  and  monotonous  in  such  a 
country  and  in  those  pioneer  days?  By  no  means ! 
In  fact  it  was  most  enjoyable  —  busy  and  rollick- 
ing, just  what  a  country  lad  enjoys.  It  is  true  there 
was  much  work,  but  there  was  also  much  fun  to 


68  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

balance  it,  for  both  old  folks  and  children  knew 
how  to  turn  work  into  play.  Certainly  husking 
corn  was  not  work  when  it  was  done  by  the  light 
of  lanterns  hung  from  the  rough  beams  of  the 
great  barns  where  the  horses  wondered  and  blinked 
at  the  unwonted  scene,  and  where  the  soft  shadows 
mellowed  the  rosy  but  modest  blushes  of  a  bevy  of 
girls  who  were  all  on  the  qui  vive  for  the  expected 
tussle  for  a  kiss  when  one  of  the  boys  should  find 
the  coveted  red  ear.  Nor  was  the  aftermath  of 
the  husking  bee  —  a  glorious  supper  and  a  moon- 
light walk  —  laborious.  It  could  scarcely  be  called 
work  when  a  score  of  young  men  on  a  moonlight 
night  cut  a  small  field  of  overripe  grain  for  a  sick 
neighbor  and  afterward  went  to  some  farmhouse, 
or  to  where  the  brook  met  the  lake,  to  partake  of 
a  picnic  meal  served  by  hands  not  oversoft  but 
willing  and  competent. 

I  remember  mornings  when  the  snow  came  with 
the  sting  of  a  whip  over  the  clear,  cold,  blue  lake. 
Jump  on  the  ox-sled  with  me  and  go  to  the  woods, 
sitting  on  the  rave,  and  hanging  your  feet  over  on 
the  outside!  Don't  touch  the  chain  with  your 
hands,  for  this  is  a  morning  when  "  cold  steel 
tastes  sweet ".  The  whole  wood  is  covered  with 
virgin  snow,  which  comes  showering  down  on  you 


OUR  PLEASURES  69 

if  you  so  much  as  touch  a  limb  with  the  whip. 
Look  at  the  delicate  tracery  in  the  snow  left  by  the 
tiny  wood-folk  when  getting  their  breakfast!  Ah, 
here  is  the  pile  of  wood  —  brush  off  the  snow  with 
your  thick  woolen  mittens !  There,  we  have  it  all 
loaded  but  those  two  sticks  —  look  out  now!  for 
there  is  a  nest  of  wood-mice  under  them,  and  if 
one  runs  up  your  leg  under  your  trousers,  won't 
you  run  and  scream  and  slap  !  Looking  back  from 
the  standpoint  of  modern  comforts  and  the  milder 
California  climate,  one  is  inclined  to  pity  those 
New  York  pioneers  for  the  hardships  which  they 
endured ;  but  the  snowy  winters  had  their  compen- 
sations when  we  battled  with  a  full  stomach  and 
warm  clothing. 

On  cold,  still  moonlight  nights,  when  the  crys- 
talled ice  covered  everything,  our  sleds  creaked  as 
they  sped  over  the  glistening  surface  down  the  hill 
and  far  out  on  the  ice-bound  lake;  and  our  skates 
rang  sharply  on  the  newly-formed  ice.  When 
nature  was  in  her  milder  mood  of  summer,  we 
stripped  to  two  garments  and  lolled  in  the  shadow 
of  the  huge  sycamore  tree  which  grew  just  at  the 
water's  edge,  beyond  the  shelter-house  of  our  sail- 
boat, The  Oregon.  There  we  would  lie  watching 
the  sails  taut  with  the  soft  south  wind,  or  flapping 


70  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

idly  against  the  stays  in  a  calm;  or  we  followed 
the  steamer  with  its  long  line  of  canal  boats  laden 
with  the  wealth  of  field  and  wood  for  the  distant 
market.  Sometimes  a  passenger  boat  came  in  close 
to  shore  to  avoid  a  strong,  westerly  wind.  With 
what  anxiety  we  watched  for  the  cloud  of  black 
smoke  and  the  sound  of  her  laborious  breathing, 
and  the  first  wave  that  struck  the  shore  made  by 
her  lightning  speed  —  as  we  thought  it  —  while 
the  foam  rose  from  her  bows.  As  I  lay  there  on 
the  bank  I  used  to  wonder  what  was  beyond  my 
little  horizon.  I  longed  for  a  wider  life  and  for  a 
more  intimate  knowledge  of  the  great  world,  which 
seemed  to  me  to  have  no  limits;  and  it  was  this 
unsatisfied  desire  of  my  youth  that  led  me  to 
travel  far  and  wide  when  I  became  older. 

Since  all  the  children  on  a  farm  helped  with  the 
work  more  or  less  from  their  childhood,  it  may  be 
guessed  that  we  did  not  have  so  much  time  for 
games  as  children  do  nowadays.  The  most  gen- 
eral, then  as  now,  was  baseball,  which  differed 
from  the  modern  game  in  several  features.  The 
ball  was  then  reasonably  soft.  It  might  be  thrown 
at  a  runner  if  he  was  off  his  base,  by  anyone  of  the 
opposing  side,  and  if  he  were  hit,  he  was  out. 
Strikes  and  hits  and  fouls  were  the  same  as  now; 


RELIGIOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  NEIGHBORHOOD    71 

but  it  was  a  more  dignified  game  in  that  it  consisted 
of  dodging  rather  than  sliding  to  bases.  We 
waxed  as  enthusiastic  as  boys  do  now,  but  such  a 
thing  as  betting  on  an  amateur  game  was  quite 
unknown. 

RELIGIOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  NEIGHBORHOOD 

The  nearest  church  in  my  boyhood  was  at  Mc- 
Duffietown,  a  hamlet  made  up  of  half  a  dozen 
houses  and  three  small  shops  about  two  miles  from 
East  Varick.  At  that  time  the  Methodist  spirit  — 
for  this  was  a  Methodist  church  —  was  so  intense 
that  I  do  not  think  that  a  Unitarian,  or  Universal- 
ist  or  Roman  Catholic  could  have  lived  there  with- 
out being  ostracized.  The  people  tributary  to  this 
church  were,  however,  not  all  church  members; 
perhaps  not  more  than  one-half  of  the  heads  of 
families  and  two-thirds  of  the  younger  people  over 
twelve  years  of  age  were  communicants.  But,  as 
there  was  no  other  church  within  five  or  six  miles, 
the  congregation  was  generally  quite  large. 

Scarcely  a  winter  passed  without  a  "  protracted  " 
meeting,  and  these  services  were  extremely  noisy, 
what  with  the  stentorian  preaching,  loud  praying, 
wild  singing  and  shouting.  The  excitement  not 
infrequently  culminated  when  some  overemotional 


72  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

convert  fainted  while  "  getting  the  spirit."  Such 
a  revival  was  a  highly  entertaining  place  for  the 
youths  of  a  wide  countryside  in  search  of  fun. 
Then,  as  now,  there  were  many  who  came  to  church 
to  be  entertained  rather  than  instructed ;  but  a  few 
came  to  entertain  as  well  as  to  be  entertained,  for 
all  attended  —  whether  church  members  or  not  — 
the  revival  meetings.  While  the  noise  and  excite- 
ment were  going  on  in  the  front  seats,  many  mis- 
chievous acts  were  perpetrated  in  the  back  seats. 
The  legs  of  the  great  box  heating  stove,  which  had 
a  very  long  pipe  for  additional  warmth,  were  set 
up  on  loose  bricks,  and  these  could  easily  be  worked 
from  under  by  the  foot.  After  working  a  brick 
out  of  place  the  culprit,  with  others  in  the  secret, 
would  start  for  a  cooler  place  and  immediately  the 
red-hot  stove  would  topple  over  and  a  portion  of 
the  pipe  would  come  down.  This  stopped  the  serv- 
ices and  created  a  wild  panic,  but  the  cause  of  the 
disaster  was  seldom  discovered. 

Although  this  was  the  most  serious  prank  I  ever 
witnessed,  it  was  by  no  means  the  only  one.  If  for 
any  reason  the  shouting  and  praying  in  the  front 
seats  ceased  for  a  moment,  the  scuffling  and  loud 
talking  of  the  unregenerate  in  the  back  seats  would 
be  heard  and  somebody  was  likely  to  be  led  out 


RELIGIOUS  LIFE  OF  THE  NEIGHBORHOOD    73 

by  the  collar.  Other  mischief  makers  would  fol- 
low him  out  and  then  there  might  be  a  scrub  horse- 
race or  a  foot-race  outside;  or  a  string  of  light 
sleighs  might  be  driven  rapidly  around  the  church 
as  though  around  a  race  track.  All  this  was  gen- 
erally the  work  of  a  half  dozen  wild  young  fel- 
lows while  I  with  a  score  of  others  looked  on,  and 
I  confess,  enjoyed  it  all.  The  church  leaders  must 
have  been  sorely  tried,  for  they  were  good  men, 
or  at  any  rate  they  led  irreproachable  lives  in  the 
sight  of  the  world.  Most  heads  of  families  who 
were  church  members,  held  daily  family  prayers 
and  the  preacher,  when  he  made  his  parochial 
visits,  always  prayed  with  the  household. 

At  the  period  of  which  I  am  writing,  1840  to 
1850,  converts  were  given  their  choice  of  the  mode 
of  baptism,  that  is,  by  sprinkling  or  immersion,  and 
the  latter  was  usually  chosen.  On  some  Sunday 
in  early  spring  a  great  throng  would  assemble  on 
the  shore  of  Cayuga  Lake  to  witness  the  immer- 
sions. The  Methodist  Church  did  not  at  this  time 
lay  great  stress  on  the  manner  of  baptism  but  it 
did  anathematize  jewelry,  bright  ribbons  and  even 
furs  when  worn  by  women,  and  many  a  new  convert 
discarded  all  of  them.  No  one  was  allowed  to 


74  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

speak  from  the  pulpit  except  a  minister,  and  sing- 
ing schools  were  only  permitted  under  the  strictest 
supervision. 

About  1870,  this  old  barn-like  church  having 
become  dilapidated,  a  broader-minded  pastor 
made  an  attempt  to  interest  outsiders  in  building 
a  new  one.  My  uncle,  Thomas  Burroughs,  whom 
I  had  never  seen  at  church,  cooperated  most  cor- 
dially and  energetically  in  building  the  new  church. 
I  was,  by  that  time,. a  Professor  at  Cornell  Uni- 
versity and  was  appealed  to  for  contributions  and 
responded  three  times  as  did  some  other  non-resi- 
dents. At  the  time  the  church  was  finally  dedi- 
cated there  was  still  a  debt  on  it  and  I,  thinking 
that  curiosity,  if  not  my  reputation,  would  draw 
an  audience,  offered  to  deliver  an  address,  the  pro- 
ceeds of  which  should  go  toward  reducing  the  debt. 
The  older  people  of  that  community  had  known 
me  as  a  crude,  tow-headed  lad  and  might  have  been 
willing  to  pay  twenty-five  cents  to  hear  me,  but  the 
trustees  still  held  to  the  old-time  narrow  views 
and  refused  my  offer  because  I  was  not  an  or- 
dained minister! 

The  religion  of  that  early  day  was  emotional 
rather  than  spiritual,  and  hell-fire  was  more 
preached  than  Christian  living;  but  in  spite  of 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    75 

dogmatic  narrowness,  the  Christian  atmosphere 
of  that  old  church  helped  much  to  hold  that  vigor- 
ous, fun-loving,  intemperate,  pioneer  people  within 
reasonable  bounds,  and  sometimes  it  made  heroes 
of  them. 

AGRICULTURAL    AND    ECONOMIC 
CONDITIONS 

I  remember  not  only  the  outdoor  pleasures,  the 
singing  schools,  and  the  revival  meetings,  but  also 
the  working  life  when  no  fun  relieved  the  monot- 
onous tasks.  Our  farm  consisted  of  100  acres 
of  good  land  and  was  a  mile  long  and  fifty  rods 
wide,  on  the  lake  side.  Its  inconvenient  shape 
was  the  result  of  a  well-conceived  plan  to  have  as 
many  farm-house  sites  as  possible  near  the  lake 
shore.  Originally,  it  was  covered  with  a  pro- 
digious growth  of  hardwoods  —  mostly  beech  and 
sugar  maple.  The  slope  from  the  back  end  of  the 
farm  to  the  lake  was  gentle  and  regular,  there  was 
not  much  rock  and  the  newly-cleared  land  pro- 
duced a  wide  range  of  edible  fruits  and  plants. 
The  soil,  however,  contained  too  much  clay  for 
easy  tillage,  especially  when  moisture  was  lacking; 
but  it  was  not  a  stubborn  soil  if  tilled  at  the  right 
time  and  not  tramped  when  too  moist. 


76  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

The  timber  and  wood  was  disappearing  so 
rapidly  by  the  time  I  was  half-grown  that  body 
cord-wood  could  be  sold  on  the  lake  bank  for  $2.50 
and  $3  per  cord  and  the  last  of  the  clearings  there- 
fore increased  the  receipts  from  the  farm.  In  the 
spring,  after  school  was  closed  we  boys  prepared 
the  household  wood,  but  we  dodged  the  more 
laborious  task  of  cutting  cord-wood  in  the  forest. 
To  have  it  cut  at  first  cost  sixty  cents  and  later 
seventy-five  cents  per  cord.  On  Saturdays  not  in- 
frequently, I  had  to  draw  the  cord-wood  down  to 
the  bank  of  the  lake.  A  cord  of  green  body  sugar- 
maple  weighs  about  two  tons,  and  since  the  sled 
was  arranged  for  a  cord  and  that  was  considered 
a  load  I,  boy-like,  proposed  to  haul  as  large  loads 
as  the  neighbors  and  I  sometimes  got  stuck.  I 
was  too  small  for  such  heavy  labor  and  the  team 
was  weak  from  standing  unused  during  the  winter, 
so  we  sometimes  stopped  before  we  got  fairly 
started  unless  I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  place 
some  small  round  sticks  under  the  sled  before 
loading.  If  the  start  was  successful  still  there  was 
danger,  for  the  lane  often  had  one-sided  snowbanks 
and  the  fun  of  upsetting  never  fully  balanced  the 
work  of  reloading,  as  a  singing  school  upset  did. 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    77 

Did  you  ever  plow  a  new  clearing  ?  Well,  if  you 
ever  did  without  using  any  strong  language  I 
would  like  to  take  you  by  the  hand  and  make  you 
a  farmer  emeritus.  The  meanest  work  of  all,  per- 
haps, was  piling  and  burning  the  brush.  When 
things  went  badly  we  had  a  saying  which  ran  in 
this  wise :  "  It  will  all  come  right  when  the  clear- 
ing is  burned."  The  effect  of  these  laborious 
struggles  upon  a  lot  of  boys  too  long  in  the  back 
for  such  hardships,  showed  later  —  as  I  will  pres- 
ently relate. 

Those  sturdy  pioneers  with  ax  and  fire-brand 
let  the  sun  in  on  many  fair  acres  and  land  prices 
began  to  go  up  by  leaps  and  bounds  —  from 
twenty  to  thirty  and  even  to  forty  dollars  per  acre. 
The  earliest  settlers  gratified  that  irresistible  de- 
sire for  land  which  they  had  inherited  from  a  long 
line  of  Anglo-Saxon  ancestors ;  but  my  father,  see- 
ing no  chance  of  acquiring  more  land  at  a  low  price 
in  New  York  to  give  each  of  his  sons  a  farm, 
went  to  Michigan  and  purchased  nearly  500  acres 
at  $2.50  per  acre.  After  a  time  we  traded  forty 
acres  of  it  for  a  chaff-piler  threshing  machine  with 
which  we  occasionally  threshed  for  the  neighbors ; 
but  we  soon  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was 
dirty  business.  Taxes  were  paid  on  this  Michigan 


78  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

land  for  more  than  thirty  years;  and  we  did  our 
share  toward  the  erection  of  three  school  houses  — 
for  no  sooner  was  one  school  house  built  than  the 
district  lines  were  changed  and  our  land  found 
itself  again  among  the  heathen.  Then  we  were 
taxed  for  draining  swamp-land;  then  for  a  great 
ditch  to  drain  the  roadway.  It  was  the  old  story 
of  taxing  non-residents  in  season  and  out.  Before 
the  land  was  finally  disposed  of  I  found  out  that 
cord-wood  could  be  sold  in  Chicago  at  such  a  price 
as  to  make  it  profitable  to  clear  the  land.  As  our 
tract  was  situated  not  far  from  Lake  Michigan, 
I  supposed  that  transportation  would  be  cheap. 
But  I  discovered  that  the  railroads  would  not  trans- 
port a  cord  of  wood  to  the  boat  landing  because 
every  cord  moved  out  of  the  district  tended  to  in- 
crease the  price  of  their  own  supply.  This  land 
was  sold  at  last  for  about  $25  per  acre  and  not 
one  tree  ever  felt  the  keen  edge  of  a  Roberts'  ax. 
Thus  fathers  propose  and  children  dispose ! 

If  someone  in  those  pioneer  days  had  shown 
the  farmers  of  Varick  that  by  clearing  the  best 
half  of  each  farm  and  by  producing  only  two- 
thirds  as  much  as  on  the  whole,  they  could  realize 
more  net  income  and  avoid  much  hard  labor,  there 
would  still  be  a  goodly  portion  of  virgin  forest 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    79 

left  and  those  farms  would  now  be  worth  twice  as 
much  as  they  are.  Through  short-sighted,  unin- 
telligent farm  practice,  for  the  most  part,  the 
markets  during  the  first  seventy-five  years  of  the 
nineteenth  century  were  glutted  with  the  most 
easily  produced  farm  products  and  with  the  woods 
of  the  forest  so  that  prices  were  often  reduced  to 
a  point  below  reasonable  profit  and  the  soil  was 
depleted  besides. 

In  addition  to  this  loss,  as  soon  as  the  roots  had 
decayed  the  drainage  channels  left  thereby  filled 
with  silt,  the  soil  lost  something  of  its  humus  and 
the  fields  became  too  wet  for  early  and  easy  tillage. 
An  effort  was  then  made  to  improve  the  condition 
of  the  soil  by  cutting  rather  narrow,  shallow 
ditches  which  were  partly  filled  with  broken  stone 
and  then  covered  with  straw,  and  the  straw  with 
dirt.  But  these  soon  became  obstructed  and  were 
then  replaced  by  deeper  stone  ditches,  constructed 
by  laying,  on  both  sides  of  the  ditch,  small  round- 
ish stone  from  the  lake  shore,  of  four  to  six  inches 
diameter;  and  upon  these,  broad,  flattish  stone  to 
make  an  open  throat.  Finish  stones  were  then 
chinked  in,  after  which  the  straw  and  dirt  cover 
followed.  These  larger  drains  were  fairly  efficient 
but  in  time  required  frequent  repairs.  Finally 


8o  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

about  1855,  drain-pipe  and  horse-shoe  tile  became 
available  and  the  wettest  parts  of  the  land  were 
under-drained  for  the  third  time.  Only  a  faint 
idea  can  be  given  of  the  labor  in  clearing  and  drain- 
ing necessary  in  those  days  to  bring  a  farm  up  to 
a  high  power  of  production. 

Meanwhile  vast  quantities  of  easily  available 
plant  food  were  being  removed  through  the  crops 
without  any  adequate  consideration  of  the  labor, 
skill,  investment  and  plant-food  involved ;  for  such 
profit  as  was  apparently  secured  was  only  obtained 
by  selling  the  cream  of  the  soil  and  our  labor  and 
skill  at  too  low  a  price.  I  hold  that  no  profit 
should  be  counted  until  a  sufficient  sinking  fund 
has  been  set  apart  to  tide  over  misfortunes  and 
old  age;  for  if  parents  have  to  be  supported  in 
their  age  by  their  children,  it  is  evident  that  they 
have  not  earned,  at  least  have  not  received,  a  life- 
supply  of  food  and  clothing — a  pitiful  result,  in- 
deed, for  a  life-time  of  industry,  economy  and 
honest  living. 

If  a  man  is  fortunate  enough  to  fill  out  his  three 
score  and  five  years,  he  should  earn  enough  in  forty 
adult  years  to  pay  for  the  cost  o'f  his  living  during 
the  first  twenty  and  for  the  last  five,  as  well  as  for 
the  period  of  his  active,  productive  life.  Most 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    8 1 

of  us  do  not  do  this ;  we  live  on  comfortably  only 
because  of  our  inheritance  of  books  containing 
knowledge,  of  devices  of  a  thousand  kinds  which 
save  labor  and  which  vastly  increase  our  produc- 
tive power;  because  of  houses  and  roads  and  farms 
and  money ;  because  in  short,  of  the  accumulations 
of  the  successful  few  who  have  preceded  us. 

The  home  farm  came  to  be  worth,  ultimately, 
$85  per  acre;  during  the  war  it  rose  to  more  than 
$100  per  acre  —  in  depreciated  greenbacks  —  and 
now  has  fallen  to  $50  per  acre.  It  is  evident 
enough  why  the  Roberts  boys  did  not  take  kindly 
to  the  noble  profession  of  agriculture;  and  why 
so  many  farm  boys  are  no  longer  willing  to  farm 
unless,  perchance,  they  can  secure  virgin,  treeless, 
stoneless  land  at  $1.25  per  acre  —  which  is  only  a 
little  more  than  the  present  price  of  a  bushel  of 
wheat  —  or  can  have  it  given  to  them  outright. 
Happily  the  days  when  the  farmers  were  spend- 
thrift of  natural  resources  are  coming  to  an  end; 
and  happily,  too,  a  well  educated  boy  may  now 
find  a  liberal  reward  on  the  farm  for  the  efforts 
made  in  harmony  with  Nature's  modes  of  action 
and  in  conformity  with  modern  science  and  ap- 
proved practices.  But  it  is  not  surprising  that 
modern  young  men  do  not  take  kindly  to  repairing 


82  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

waste  places  and  to  correcting  the  mistakes  of  their 
forefathers. 

Having  generalized  somewhat  on  soil  robbery 
and  soil  renaisscence,  it  is  time  to  return  to  farm 
details  in  Central  New  York.  For  many  years 
there  were  two  weeds  which  caused  great  annoy- 
ance and  incessant  labor  to  keep  in  check.  As  soon 
as  the  fields  were  cleared  the  Canada  thistle  — 
carvinces  —  found  a  foothold  and,  the  land  being 
rich  and  mellow,  it  required  great  persistency  to 
keep  it  in  check.  The  usual  rotation  was  corn  or 
fallow,  oats,  barley  or  flax,  then  wheat;  clover  for 
one  year  and  for  pasture  one.  This  was  followed 
by  a  three-to-five-plowing  summer  fallow,  if  the 
thistles  were  scattered  over  most  of  the  field;  if 
they  were  in  restricted  patches,  these  were  plowed 
frequently  during  the  year  the  field  was  in  pasture, 
thus  to  a  great  extent  avoiding  an  idle  year. 

Even  with  all  these  precautions  some  thistles 
would  appear  in  the  grain  and  the  sheaves  of  wheat 
had  to  be  touched  most  gingerly;  and,  fight  as 
steadily  as  we  might,  they  were  never  wholly  eradi- 
cated. In  those  days  I  used  to  feel,  while  cuffing 
the  soil  back  and  forth  with  an  imperfect  plow 
so  many  times  during  those  long  summer  days, 
that  I  was  the  particular  victim  of  the  pestiferous 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    83 

Canada  thistle.  I  revisited  the  old  farm  in  1904 
and  I  recognized  some  of  those  same  thistles  that 
used  to  torment  my  bare  feet  and  aching  legs,  but 
they  were  not  so  rank  and  vicious  as  they  had  been 
when  the  land  was  new  and  rich. 

Pigeon-weed,  redroot  —  corn  gromwell  —  was 
very  common  and  was  known  by  the  first  name  in 
our  region.  Two  explanations  were  given  for  the 
name :  the  one  arose  from  the  fact  that  the  seeds 
looked  wonderfully  like  a  pigeon's  head,  while  the 
other  and  more  obvious  one  was  that  the  pigeons 
had  brought  in  the  seed.  During  fall  and  spring 
enormous  flocks  of  these  birds  passed  over  the 
country  in  migration  to  and  from  their  breeding 
ground.  It  is  known  that  pigeons,  if  they  have 
partaken  of  undesirable  food  and  afterward  find 
better,  disgorge  the  first  and  feed  upon  that  which 
is  more  satisfactory.  Stumps  and  trees  left  for 
shade,  furnished  alighting  places  from  which  these 
birds  could  view  the  grain  which  had  not  been 
covered  by  the  primitive  wooden-toothed  harrow. 
They  "  coughed  up  "  their  previous  meal  —  as  the 
college  boys  would  say  —  and  gobbled  down  the 
precious  seed  grain.  The  weed  was  seen  at  first 
about  stumps  and  under  the  trees  where  the  pigeons 
alighted,  but  it  soon  became  distributed  over  the 


84  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

whole  field.  We  had  no  way  of  eradicating  it  but 
to  hand-pull  it;  in  extreme  cases  I  have  known  it 
to  cost  $5  per  acre  to  pull  it  from  a  single  wheat 
crop.  I  myself  once  hired  out  to  pull  this  weed 
at  fifty  cents  a  day;  but  I  soon  abandoned  the  job 
for  my  wages  scarcely  sufficed  to  purchase  liniment 
enough  to  cure  my  backache. 

We  got  rid  of  the  pigeon  weed  finally  by  chang- 
ing the  crop  rotation.  The  birds  that  brought  it, 
however,  served  us  both  for  food  and  sport.  To 
catch  them  a  net,  twelve  feet  broad  and  thirty 
feet  long,  was  laid  in  a  rope-like  mass  near  the 
woods  —  on  the  north  side  in  the  spring  and  on 
the  south  in  the  fall  —  and  so  arranged  that  it 
could  be  quickly  raised,  spread  and  brought  to  the 
ground  by  means  of  small  ropes.  Two  pigeons 
having  been  caught,  the  lids  of  their  eyes  were 
stitched  together ;  to  the  leg  of  one  —  the  flier  — 
a  long  string  was  attached  and  the  other  was 
fastened  to  a  stool  which  could  be  raised  or  low- 
ered two  or  three  feet  by  means  of  a  cord  from 
the  bush-house.  In  front  of  the  net  the  ground 
was  baited  with  wheat.  When  the  pigeons  were 
heard  coming  over  the  woods  up  went  the  flier,  into 
the  bush-house  dodged  the  boy.  When  the  flier 
got  to  the  end  of  its  string  it  would  hover  as 
pigeons  do  when  they  are  about  to  alight  to  eat. 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    85 

When  the  attention  of  the  flock  had  been  caught 
and  its  flight  arrested  the  stool  pigeon  was  made 
to  hover  by  being  suddenly  raised  and  lowered. 
If  the  flock  became  mistrustful  —  pigeons  have  a 
way  of  snapping  their  wings  when  frightened  — 
it  took  quick  work  to  net  them  and  some  always 
got  away,  but  that  did  not  matter  as  other  flocks 
were  certain  to  follow.  Seneca  County  is  now  en- 
tirely deserted  by  the  wild  pigeon  and  the  pigeon- 
weed  is  no  longer  a  serious  menace ;  but  the  Canada 
thistle,  like  taxes,  still  puts  in  an  appearance  every 
year. 

Wild  geese  and  ducks  seldom  came  to  the  fields 
but  dwelt  in  the  marshes  at  the  foot  of  the  Lake. 
The  chipmunks,  the  crows  and  the  brown  cut-worm 
sometimes  did  much  injury  to  seed  and  growing 
plants  of  maize.  The  two  former  have  long  de- 
parted but  the  latter  still  remains  in  fields  which 
are  not  under  regular  short  rotation.  I  am  glad 
the  chipmunks  remained  as  long  as  they  did  for 
they  gave  me  many  a  cessation  of  hoeing  corn 
while  I  chased  them  in  and  out  of  the  crooked 
worm  fences.  While  trying  to  circumvent  the 
crows  we  boys  learned  that  they  could  not  count, 
for  if  two  persons  went  into  a  "  blind  "  and  one 
went  out,  the  crows  would  come  back  to  the  field. 


86  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

The  frost,  too,  was  an  enemy  to  be  reckoned  with 
and  often  injured  the  corn  and  the  pumpkins.  By 
reason  of  press  of  work  or  of  over-moist  ground 
planting  might  be  delayed  until  the  first  days  of 
June  and  replanting  to  make  good  the  skips,  might 
be  done  still  later,  in  which  case  an  early  frost 
might  produce  much  soft  "  hog-corn.'* 

I  have  said  there  was  a  great  deal  of  uninspiring 
work  on  the  farm;  but  after  burning  the  brush  the 
most  beastly  work  was  hoeing  corn.  If  the  grass- 
land was  mowed  one  year  and  then  pastured  for 
one  or  two  years,  the  timothy  and  clover  "  ran 
out "  and  the  blue  grass  ran  in  and  formed  a  ter- 
ribly tenacious  sod.  Such  fields  were  planted  to 
corn  that  intro-tillage  might  serve  to  eradicate  the 
"  pesky  "  blue  grass.  The  plowing  and  fitting  of 
the  corn  ground  was  imperfect,  for  the  tools  were 
primitive,  and  so  the  blue  grass  roots  which  already 
had  a  start,  outgrew  the  corn,  especially  if  the 
weather  was  cool  and  moist.  Bluegrass,  in  some 
localities,  is  counted  an  excellent  pasture  and  even 
a  good  hay  grass,  but  with  us  it  was  a  great  pest  — 
almost  as  much  so  as  the  Canada  thistle.  The  in- 
struments for  intro-tillage  did  not  make  much  im- 
pression on  the  leathery  sod,  and  so  it  was  custom- 
ary to  hand-hoe  corn  from  three  to  five  times.  Oh, 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    87 

but  that  did,  locate  the  soft,  undeveloped  muscles 
of  boys!  It  makes  my  sides  quiver  again  just  to 
write  about  it,  even  while  I  rejoice  that  corn  is 
usually  raised  now  by  horse-hoe  culture  without 
any  use  whatever  of  the  hand  hoe. 

The  fields  in  our  region  were  small  —  from  two 
to  eight  acres.  When  I  grew  up  I  tried  to  account 
for  this  practice  which  was  almost  universal  in  the 
United  States  and  Canada.  As  usual,  my  mother 
solved  the  question  for  me.  Each  field  represented 
a  year's  clearing  and  it  was  about  as  easy  to  dis- 
pose of  the  timber  by  splitting  it  into  rails  as  to 
log  and  burn  it.  If  the  year's  clearing  was  fenced 
by  itself  the  grazing  livestock  would  keep  down 
the  vigorous  growth  of  sprouts  and  weeds  which 
were  certain  to  appear  after  the  brush  had  been 
burned  and  even  while  the  new  ground  summer 
fallow  was  being  conducted,  for  not  more  than 
half  of  the  cleared  ground  was  plowable  the  first 
year  on  account  of  roots  and  stumps. 

The  farm  buildings  on  our  place  consisted  of  a 
one  and  a  half  story  house,  two  barns  —  when  I 
was  in  my  teens  —  a  wagon-house  and  a  wood- 
house.  The  barns,  though  of  good  size,  were  not 
large  enough  to  hold  the  entire  crop  without  much 
tramping  of  hay  and  much  care  in  mowing  away 


88  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

the  grain.  One  man,  on  his  knees,  placed  the 
sheaves  in  well-arranged  parallel  rows  and  by 
hitching  along  pressed  them  down  as  the  line  ex- 
tended; but  even  so,  the  grain  would  settle  and  the 
peaks  would  have  to  be  refilled  from  the  ladder. 
A  modern  curb-roof  would  have  eliminated  much 
of  the  old  roof  structure,  would  have  nearly 
doubled  the  capacity  of  the  mows,  saved  labor  and 
obviated  the  pain  of  picking  thistles  out  of  the 
knees  and  hands.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that 
many  of  the  low  barns  of  Central  New  York  built 
on  the  old  model,  are  now  being  enlarged  upward 
and  improved  by  using  the  curb-roof  construction. 
I  have  long  since  learned  that  we  husked  the 
corn,  dug  the  potatoes,  and  picked  the  apples  too 
late  in  the  season,  for  we  and  they  often  suffered 
from  the  fall  blasts  and  the  approaching  winter. 
There  were  times  when  I  would  have  gone  the  dis- 
tance of  a  block  out  of  my  way  to  avoid  the  sight 
of  one  of  those  jumbo  apple  trees.  Imagine  a 
twenty  foot  ladder  reared  against  one  of  those 
great  trees  which  grew  like  forest  trees  because 
of  the  store  of  plant  food  in  the  virgin  soil,  and  at 
the  upper  end,  in  that  cold  northwest  wind,  a  lad 
with  numbed  hands  grasping  the  ladder  with  one 
hand  and  the  apples  with  the  other  —  and  you 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    89 

have  a  true  picture  of  some  of  my  boyhood  hard- 
ships. 

These  apples  were  loaded  into  a  New  Jersey 
scoop  wagon  box  with  side  boards ;  forty  or  more 
bushels  of  them,  and  hauled  ten  miles  with  three 
horses.  The  span  was  so  hitched  to  long  double- 
trees and  neck  yokes  that  they  straddled  one  path, 
while  the  lead  horse  took  it,  by  which  arrangement 
the  wagon  wheels  ran  in  the  paths  followed  by  the 
tongue  horses  and  escaped  the  all  but  bottomless 
ruts.  In  the  market  apples  brought  eighteen  and 
three-fourths  cents  per  bushel  in  "  shinplasters," 
redeemable  at  the  store  where  the  prices  were 
about  100  per  cent,  above  cost. 

No  one  understood  then  and  few  understand 
now,  that  the  difference  between  our  outgo  and 
our  income  was  largely  secured  through  parting 
with  the  unearned  natural  resources  of  the  land, 
such  as  wood,  humus,  nitrogen,  potash  and  phos- 
phate of  lime.  That  is,  our  profits  were  not  all 
due  to  wise  plans,  economy  and  hard  work.  Even 
to  this  day  such  misleading,  incorrect  balance 
sheets  are  being  struck  in  the  minds  of  a  multitude 
of  farmers.  And  yet  in  spite  of  this  I  am  fully 
persuaded  that  a  well-informed  young  man,  with 
a  farm  paid  for  and  a  little  surplus  capital,  could 


90  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

now  find  no  better  place  to  raise  apples  than  on 
that  same  farm  of  my  boyhood,  depleted  as  it  is  of 
some  of  its  plant  food;  nor  perhaps  could  he  find 
any  other  business  likely  to  bring  more  liberal 
rewards  in  pleasure  and  money  for  the  money  and 
the  effort  expended.  What  more  comfortable 
place  to  live  in  and  get  joy  out  of  life  than  on  the 
banks  of  one  of  those  finger  lakes !  You  may  ask: 
Why  did  not  I  or  one  of  my  children  see  all  this 
twenty-five  years  ago?  As  for  myself  my  sad  ex- 
perience in  those  apple  trees  and  my  ignorance  of 
fruit  culture  dampened  my  ardor  and  misled  my 
judgment.  As  for  my  boys,  they,  like  other  young 
people,  imagine  that  escape  from  difficulties  and 
hardships  awaits  them  at  the  other  end  of  the 
world;  distance,  too,  has  a  wonderful  enchant- 
ment: 

"  Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast, 
Man  never  is,  but  always  to  be  blest." 

I  could  not  blame  my  children  since  I  myself 
listened  to  the  "  call  of  the  wild "  and  moved 
westward  three  times;  if  I  go  farther,  I  shall  land 
in  the  east  on  the  other  side  of  the  world. 

But  to  return  to  our  difficulties  in  that  early 
time:  plowing  was  laborious  and  provoking  not 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    91 

.    w 

only  because  of  the  stumps  but  because  the  plows 
were  crude,  heavy  and  inefficient.  A  few  wooden 
moldboards  were  still  in  use  when  I  first  reached 
up  to  those  handles  which  were  all  too  short  and 
too  high  even  for  men.  Why  plow  makers  per- 
sisted for  half  a  century  in  so  wooding  the  plows 
as  to  give  the  short  end  of  the  lever  to  the  plowman 
and  the  long  one  to  the  horses,  I  could  never  under- 
stand, unless  it  was  to  permit  of  throwing  the  plow 
in  behind  the  stumps  quickly  as  it  passed  them. 
There  was  certainly  no  excuse  for  setting  the  han- 
dles so  high  that  they  were  certain  to  hit  the  plow- 
boy  in  the  ribs  if  the  plowshare  received  a  side- 
thrust.  Cast  plows  superseded  those  made  of  wood 
chiefly,  or  by  the  blacksmith  of  wrought  iron,  but 
they  were  heavy  unpolished  implements  and  in 
many  respects  violated  the  principles  of  plow  con- 
struction as  we  now  know  them.  They  were  hard 
to  hold  when  going  ahead  and  harder  to  pull  back 
when  they  struck  their  noses  under  a  network  of 
roots.  In  some  respects  they  were  not  as  good  as 
the  more  primitive  peacock  plow,  for  it  was  pro- 
vided with  a  lock-colter  so  that  it  could  not  get  its 
nose  fast  under  the  roots  and  it  was  also  lighter  to 
handle. 

Harrows,  or,  more  accurately,  drags,  were  at 
first  made  from  the  symmetrical  crotches  of  trees 


92  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

and  with  a  dozen  wooden  teeth.  The  virgin  soil 
did  not  need  fining  but  smoothing,  for  it  was  mixed 
with  soft  leaf  mould.  But  as  the  stumps  rotted 
away  the  soil  changed  in  character  and  the  farmer 
learned  to  construct  iron-toothed  harrows  that 
were  more  efficient.  Let  me  remark  here  that 
working  farmers  were  the  original  inventors  of 
nearly  every  agricultural  implement  —  and  of 
most  of  the  common  tools  used  on  the  farm. 
While  the  initial  idea  was  often  only  partially  and 
crudely  developed,  the  inventors  should  receive  due 
credit.  The  spade,  the  shovel,  the  hoe,  the  flail 
and  the  fan  were  invented  long  before  iron  was 
available.  In  like  manner  the  sled,  the  wagon,  the 
harness,  the  thresher,  the  rake,  the  harvester  — 
all  were  first  invented  by  the  farmer.  Necessity 
was  indeed  the  parent  of  invention. 

GROWING  UP 

I  must  now  go  back  a  little  from  the  considera- 
tion of  the  social  and  industrial  conditions  under 
which  I  grew  up,  to  certain  apparently  unimpor- 
tant events  which  were  later  to  shape  my  life  quite 
differently  from  the  lives  of  my  brothers. 

When  I  was  about  fifteen  years  old  I  went  home 
from  school  one  evening  with  my  cousins,  the  Bur- 
roughs boys.  In  one  part  of  my  uncle's  new  and 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    93 

as  yet  unfinished  house,  I  found  a  middle-aged  man 
from  Pennsylvania,  by  the  name  of  Moyer,  work- 
ing at  a  bench  by  candle-light.  The  long,  ribbony 
shavings  had,  in  the  uncertain  light,  a  wonderful 
charm  for  me  and  I  determined  at  once  to  learn 
carpentering  and  asked  my  uncle  if  he  would  hire 
me  to  work  with  Moyer  the  next  summer.  I  had 
previously  worked  for  my  uncle  on  the  farm  at 
$1.25  per  week.  My  uncle  agreed  that  I  was  to 
receive  for  six  months  $10  per  month  and  board, 
and  it  was  stipulated  that  I  was  to  leave  the  bench 
and  work  in  the  harvest  field  at  least  two  weeks  of 
the  time  as  a  "  half-hand,"  that  is,  to  bind  one- 
half  what  a  cradler  cut.  When  harvest  came, 
however,  uncle  put  two  other  half -hands  with  me 
to  take  up  after  two  cradlers.  We  argued  among 
ourselves  as  to  how  three  halves  could  be  united 
so  as  to  make  two  whole  ones;  but  fortunately 
workmen  had  not  then  learned  to  strike  and  the 
work  went  on.  We  had  been  taught  the  wise 
saying  of  Solomon:  "when  the  ax  is  dull,  lay  on 
the  harder." 

The  money  earned  by  carpentering  enabled  me 
that  fall  to  attend  the  Academy  at  Seneca  Falls 
and  later,  as  I  became  more  skilled,  I  earned  the 
money  to  go  on  again  with  my  studies.  The  next 


94  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

year  but  one  my  uncle  gave  me  $i  per  day  to 
work  at  repairing  buildings  on  his  son's  farm. 
The  older  children  in  our  family  did  not  have  to 
work  so  hard  as  I  did  to  get  an  education,  for  they 
went  to  school  when  the  household  was  more  pros- 
perous. While  I  was  growing  up  there  were  sev- 
eral serious  illnesses  in  the  family  and  there  was 
less  money  to  spend  for  other  purposes.  One  of 
these  occurred  just  as  I  was  about  ready  to  go  to 
the  Academy,  and  prevented  me  from  getting  any 
more  formal  education. 

When  I  was  about  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  old 
I  was  possessed  with  a  desire  to  visit  my  Grand- 
father Roberts,  then  nearly  eighty  years  of  age, 
and  the  other  relatives  living  near  Trenton,  New 
Jersey.  After  urging  the  matter  upon  my  mother 
several  times,  she  finally  said:  "  Child,  you  know 
we  haven't  the  money  to  spare."  That  seemed  to 
shatter  all  my  hopes;  but  not  long  afterward  I 
asked:  "Well,  may  I  go  if  I  can  earn  the 
money?  "  And  she  replied  with  a  smile :  "  Why, 
yes,  I  think  so."  In  the  modern  slang,  it  was  now 
"  up  to  me."  Immediately  I  made  diligent  inquiry 
for  carpenter  work;  and  soon  learned  that  an  as- 
sembly hall  —  an  extension  to  a  hotel  —  was  to  be 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    95 

built  in  a  hurry  for  a  political  convention,  at  a  vil- 
lage some  five  miles  away.  In  ten  minutes  I  was 
astride  of  old  Nance,  and  that  day  I  got  a  job. 

I  must  have  worked  at  least  four  weeks  when 
my  employer  asked  what  wages  I  thought  I  ought 
to  have.  As  I  hesitated  a  good  fellow,  a  half- 
fledged  workman  who  had  worked  alongside  me, 
said:  "Well,  the  boy  has  earned  as  much  as  I 
have."  That  settled  it — I  got  $1.25  per  day  and 
board  —  very  good  wages  at  that  time.  I  can 
scarcely  describe  with  what  pride  I  came  home 
with  the  biggest  roll  of  bills  I  had  ever  possessed 
in  my  pocket;  nor  my  joy  in  filling  the  old  family 
carpet-bag  with  little  love  tokens,  for  our  unsus- 
pecting relatives  in  New  Jersey.  Of  all  my  travel- 
ling experiences  that  first  one  was  the  most  exciting 
—  probably  because  it  was  the  first. 

But  the  journey  was  planned  with  many  mis- 
givings, for  up  to  this  time  I  had  seen  nothing  of 
the  outside  world.  I  had  been  to  Seneca  Falls, 
eleven  miles  away;  and  to  Ovid,  eight  miles  away; 
across  the  Lake  to  Aurora  —  four  miles  —  and 
greatest  of  all,  I  had  once  driven  the  school  teacher 
to  Sodus  Bay  —  thirty  miles.  Now  I  was  about 
to  take  a  "  truly  "  journey  on  the  steam  cars,  into 
the  very  crater  of  what  I  then  supposed  was  the 


96  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

wickedest  city  on  earth  —  for  hair-raising  stories 
of  New  York  used  to  come  to  us  by  way  of  the 
canal,  our  dock  being  the  terminal  of  a  line  of  Erie 
Canal  boats.  I  now  realize  that  if  those  stories 
had  come  by  fast  mail  instead  of  the  "  raging 
canal  "  they  would  not  have  had  time  to  grow  so 
large.  Some  strange  things  did  happen  to  me  but 
at  this  distance  of  time  they  appear  laughable 
rather  than  terrifying. 

In  that  Hades  to  which  I  was  hastening  I  knew 
but  one  person,  a  former  schoolmate  who  kept  a 
small  fruit  store  on  Broadway.  As  the  train  ap- 
proached the  city  in  the  early  evening  the  cars 
stopped  more  frequently  and  passengers  began  to 
get  off ;  but  was  this  Broadway  ?  If  not,  where  was 
it?  I  hesitated  to  ask  questions  for  fear  they 
might  reveal  my  country  breeding.  I  finally  came 
to  this  sage  conclusion :  the  ocean  must  be  here  and 
the  cars  cannot  carry  me  beyond  New  York  city  — 
but  I  was  fairly  quaking  with  terror.  At  last  the 
train  pulled  into  a  great  station,  the  last,  ap- 
parently; and  as  all  the  remaining  passengers 
arose,  I  went  out  also,  not  knowing  whither  I  went. 

Again  I  reasoned  that  most  of  these  passengers 
must  live  on  Broadway  and  so  I  trailed  after  the 
largest  crowd  and  soon  came  to  a  street  that  was 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    97 

busier  and  lighter  than  others,  where  I  began  to 
look  for  the  numbers  above  the  stores.  By  this 
time  I  saw  that  I  was  going  in  the  wrong  direction, 
but  thinking  that  someone  might  observe  that  I 
was  green,  I  continued  to  a  cross  street,  went  over 
and  started  in  the  right  direction,  then  walked  a 
block  crossing  over  again  to  the  even-numbered 
side.  After  many  weary  blocks  I  found  the  store 
number  of  my  friend  and  I  do  not  know  whether 
he  was  more  surprised  at  the  sight  of  me  or  at  the 
size  of  my  carpet-bag. 

I  woke  early  the  next  morning,  full  of  curiosity, 
and  conceived  the  brilliant  idea  of  going  out  to 
see  the  city  before  breakfast.  I  thought  I  took 
note  of  the  location  of  the  house,  but  after  a  time 
when  I  turned  back  the  houses  seemed  all  alike  and 
I  knew  that  I  was  lost.  After  a  time  of  anxious 
wandering  my  friend  came  out  to  hunt  me  and 
fortunately  found  me  at  the  corner  of  the  next 
block.  I  cannot  remember  a  single  thing  I  saw 
that  October  morning  but  I  learned  that  you  can- 
not see  the  town  for  the  houses. 

When  I  came  back  to  New  York  from  Hunter- 
don  County  my  bag  was  heavily  laden  with  pres- 
ents and  souvenirs  for  those  at  home  and  I  had  a 
good,  stout  cane,  a  present  from  my  grandfather 

4 


98  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

to  my  father.  I  had  thought  I  could  find  my  way 
but  again  I  got  lost  and  it  was  nearing  train-time. 
So,  seeing  a  ragged  boy  scarcely  larger  than  my  va- 
lise, I  exclaimed:  "  Here,  boy,  carry  my  baggage," 
in  a  tone  such  as  I  imagined  a  distinguished  trav- 
eller might  use.  "Where  do  you  want  to  go?" 
he  asked.  "  Oh,  to  the  New  York  Central  depot," 
I  replied.  But  I  had  hardly  begun  to  follow  him 
when  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  boy  —  the  son  of 
a  thief  perhaps — might  get  away  with  all  my 
treasures;  and  I  planned  to  lay  him  low  with  the 
family  cane.  When  he  finally  led  me  safely  to  the 
station,  I  gave  him  a  quarter  with  the  air  of  some 
wealthy  up-country  farmer.  It  may  appear  to 
you  that  this  is  an  exaggerated  account  of  a  very 
trivial  affair  but  how  serious  it  was  to  an  ignorant, 
imaginative  boy  whose  mind  had  been  filled  with 
blood-curdling  stories  by  those  lying  up-state  canal- 
ers,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  I  now  remember  it 
much  more  distinctly  than  the  city  sights  which  I 
had  come  to  view. 

Arriving  safely  at  home  I  was  the  envy  of  all 
my  school  mates  and  was  even  looked  up  to  by 
some  of  my  elders.  From  the  time  of  this  journey- 
ing until  I  was  about  twenty  I  carpentered  most  of 
the  time  in  summer  and  spent  the  winters  at  the 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS    99 

Academy.  When  I  was  twenty-one  I  was  em- 
ployed, on  the  reputation  of  my  brothers  as  good 
teachers,  to  teach  the  winter  school  at  the  small 
village  of  Beerytown,  which  with  the  surrounding 
countryside,  furnished  about  eighty  pupils  of  school 
age.  The  school  proved  to  be  well-advanced  not 
only  in  books  but  in  deviltry  and  had  a  large  per 
cent  of  nearly-grown  boys  who  had  made  it  warm 
for  my  predecessor,  got  him  into  a  law  suit  and 
finally  succeeded  in  getting  him  dismissed.  Later 
I  made  the  acquaintance  of  this  gentleman  who 
became  a  well-known  scholar  and  who,  for  many 
years,  was  Secretary  of  State  for  New  York. 

I  did  not  have  very  much  difficulty  in  governing 
the  school  but  the  larger  boys  and  girls  kept  me 
screwed  up  to  concert  pitch  all  the  time.  One 
young  lady  kept  me  hard  at  work  preparing  the 
lessons  in  Watson's  Mental  Arithmetic  —  an  old 
textbook  which  was,  in  fact,  a  mental  algebra.  A 
laughable  little  thing  happened  in  this  wise :  The 
boys  were  requested  to  bring  in  some  wood  on 
their  return  from  recess.  They  obeyed  quite 
literally.  Every  boy  loaded  his  arms  to  his  nose 
and,  marching  in  Indian  file,  they  deposited  such  a 
quantity  of  stove  wood  as  had  never  been  seen  in 
the  school-house  at  one  time.  One  small  boy,  after 


ioo  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

unloading,  tarried  to  see  the  others  come  in;  as  a 
big  boy  passed  him  he  tripped  and  the  big  boy  and 
the  load  of  wood  both  went  sprawling  to  the  floor. 
Before  the  uproar  had  ceased  I  had  the  little  fel- 
low by  the  shoulders  of  his  round-a-bout  coat  and, 
with  one  upward  surge,  the  coat  was  in  my  hands 
and  his  pants  on  the  floor.  "  My  scat !  "  that  was 
a  scene  for  an  artist !  For  the  boy  had  no  shirt  — 
or  perhaps  it  was  inside  the  coat  —  I  did  not  stop 
to  investigate  — but  with  a  face  as  red  as  those  of 
the  larger  girls,  I  crushed  him  to  the  floor,  gath- 
ered him  and  the  wreckage  in  my  arms,  thrust  them 
together  into  the  basket  room,  and  sent  his  brother 
in  after  him.  Soon  afterward  he  appeared, 
clothed,  and  I  lived  for  several  days  in  nervous 
dread  of  hearing  from  this  ridiculous  episode,  but 
nothing  happened. 

In  those  days  the  first  thing  the  older  pupils  tried 
to  do  was  to  "  stick  "  the  teacher.  The  following 
will  show  a  few  of  the  ways  in  which  they  tried  to 
"  stick  "  me.  A  boy  more  than  twenty  years  old 
called  me  to  his  seat  and  expressed  a  great  desire 
to  master  all  there  was  in  Thompson's  Higher 
Arithmetic  and  wished  to  begin  on  the  first  page  in 
Roman  notation  and  to  follow  with  every  succeed- 
ing process.  I  helped  him  through  addition  and 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS   101 

sat  up  nights  to  prepare  for  the  difficulties  ahead 
but,  fortunately,  my  ambitious  pupil  dropped  out  in 
a  few  days.  Soon  after  this,  another  advanced  boy 
called  for  help  in  Algebra.  It  was  an  easy  job  to 
straighten  out  his  X,  Y,  Z's;  but  the  next  day  he 
wanted  help  again.  When  asked  if  he  had  per- 
formed all  the  examples  between  the  two  widely 
separated  problems  —  they  were  thirty  pages 
apart  —  he  said  no,  that  he  was  just  reviewing. 
He  had  struck  a  tough  one,  as  I  had  reason  to  re- 
member for  I  had  had  it  at  the  Academy.  So, 
glancing  at  it,  I  remarked  casually:  "Jacob,  I 
am  too  busy  to  do  that  long  example  in  school 
hours."  As  it  was  then  time  for  recess  I  turned 
the  boys  out  and  walked  with  shaking  knees  to  my 
desk  to  get  my  old  algebra.  Upon  turning  over 
the  fly  leaves,  I  found  that  example  all  worked  out 
as  I  had  done  it  in  the  Academy.  Going  to  the 
blackboard,  I  transcribed  it,  and  when  the  boy 
came  in  I  said  in  no  uncertain  tone :  "  Jacob,  there 
is  your  problem !  "  Not  having  succeeded  in  "  stick- 
ing "  me,  he  soon  afterward  left  school. 

The  boys  tried  other  tricks  than  merely  intel- 
lectual problems.  The  teacher  of  the  previous 
winter  was  accustomed  to  go  to  the  hotel  for  his 
mid-day  meal.  While  he  was  gone  they  would  bar 


102  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

the  door  on  the  inside,  thus  shutting  out  the  teacher, 
who  would  go  up  the  street  and  return  with  a 
school  trustee.  By  the  time  they  reached  the 
schoolhouse  the  door  would  be  standing  open  and 
all  the  pupils  would  be  playing  in  the  yard  at  the 
back.  When  I  was  asked  by  one  of  the  boys  what 
I  would  do  if  I  were  barred  out,  I  replied 
promptly,  that  I  would  batter  down  that  door  with 
a  stick  of  stove  wood  and  then  there  would  be 
doings  inside.  By  such  bold  front  and  by  virtue 
of  good  fortune  I  gained  a  reputation  of  being  able 
to  govern  hard  schools  where  better  men  than  I 
had  failed. 

From  a  letter  written  to  me  in  recent  years  by  a 
man  who  visited  my  school,  I  extract  the  following 
comments : 

"  Your  autobiography  is  especially  interesting  to 
me  because  I  remember  so  many  incidents  of  your 
youthful  days.  Among  them  is  one  of  the  winter  you 
taught  school  at  Beerytown  where  the  pupils  ranged 
from  sixty  to  seventy  in  number.  J.  N.  B. —  and 
myself,  who  were  then  about  twelve  years  old,  made 
you  a  visit.  When  the  school  was  out  at  noon  you 
took  us  to  dinner  with  you  at  the  hotel  where  you 
boarded  and  one  thing  that  made  a  deep  impression 
on  my  mind  was  the  beefsteak  they  had  on  the  table  — 
such  a  lot  of  it,  great  thick  slices  —  and  so  much  more 
than  I  had  ever  been  used  to  seeing  on  the  table  at 
one  time.  The  boys  in  school  were  great  big,  rough 
town  boys,  but  you  maintained  good  order  and  as  I 


AGRICULTURAL  AND  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS   103 

look  at  it  now,  you  must  have  had  considerable  exec- 
utive ability  to  manage  them.  But  what  mpressed 
me  most  was  when  I  asked  you  if  you  could  work  all 
those  hard  examples  in  the  back  of  Davis*  Arithmetic, 
you  said  you  could,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  any  per- 
son who  could  do  that  must  be  a  highly  educated  person. 
Indeed,  I  have  no  mean  opinion  of  it  yet  —  at  least 
when  I  was  old  enough  to  do  them  I  felt  rather  proud 
of  it." 

During  that  winter  one  other  thing  happened 
which  had  an  influence  on  my  after  life.  A  cousin 
of  mine  was  to  be  married  so  I  got  a  day  off  at  the 
end  of  the  week  and  attended  the  wedding,  after 
which  a  party  was  made  up  to  escort  the  bride  and 
groom  wherever  they  should  choose  to  go.  A 
half-dozen  young  couples  in  as  many  sleighs,  set 
out  and  a  merry  three  days  it  was  for  most  of  us. 
The  following  Monday  morning  I  got  back 
home,  four  miles  from  my  school,  sleepy,  tired  and 
mad !  My  girl  had  showered  her  smiles  on  a  hand- 
somer man  than  I  at  one  of  the  villages  where  we 
had  stopped,  and  as  my  puppy-love  had  now  passed 
away  and  as  I  had  spent  the  earnings  of  a  whole 
month,  I  was  in  a  reflective  frame  of  mind.  By 
the  time  I  had  walked  the  four  miles  to  my  school 
the  old  saying,  "A  fool  and  his  money  is  soon 
parted  "  seemed  to  me  true.  Now,  I  reckon,  that 
the  money  spent  in  those  three  days,  chasing  after 


104  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

fun  and  not  finding  it,  if  it  had  been  put  at  interest 
and  left  to  accumulate  till  1914  would  have 
amounted  to  the  no  inconsiderable  sum  of  $824.50. 
However,  I  got  some  wisdom  out  of  that  foolish 
expenditure  and  perhaps  that  was  worth  more  to 
me  then  than  the  money  would  be  now. 


SECTION  II 
EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST 

(1854  —  1873) 


HOW  I  CAME  TO  GO  WEST 

In  the  spring  of  1854  my  first  winter  of  school 
teaching  came  to  an  end.  On  the  evening  of  the 
last  day  a  very  creditable  exhibition  of  the  school's 
ability  to  sing  and  declaim  was  held  in  the  very 
hall  that  I  had  helped  to  erect  when  I  was  earning 
money  for  that  dangerous  journey  which  I  made 
to  the  "  Jarsies  "  (New  Jersey) .  I  was,  therefore, 
out  of  a  job.  Why  my  uncle  did  not  go  on  adding 
to  his  house  —  it  was  already  no  feet  long  —  so 
as  to  give  me  employment  I  did  not  then  quite 
understand,  for  I  looked  upon  that  vigorous, 
money-making  uncle  as  a  great  man  who  when  he 
got  started  in  a  big  thing  never  stopped.  Mr. 
Moyer,  the  boss-carpenter  with  whom  I  had 
worked  at  uncle's,  had  gone  to  La  Porte,  Indiana, 
and  there  was  not  much  building  going  on  in  our 
neighborhood.  I  was  not  needed  at  home  on  the 
farm  and  there  was,  in  short,  no  work  in  sight. 

Perhaps  I  was  still  a  little  sore  over  the  month's 
wages  squandered  in  that  joy-ride  of  the  previous 
winter;  at  any  rate  I  was  restless  and  unhappy.  I 
could  no  longer  lie  on  the  grass  on  the  lake  bank 
and  dream,  for  I  was  now  a  man  in  the  eyes  of 
the  law  and  felt  that  I  must  be  getting  a  foothold 

[107] 


io8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

in  the  world.  One  Sunday  I  heard  that  there  was  a 
contractor  visiting  a  neighbor  about  half  a  mile 
down  the  Lake  and  I  determined  to  interview  him ; 
but  having  also  heard  that  he  was  a  hard  boss  I 
loitered  and  debated  whether  I  really  wanted  a 
job  under  him.  Just  as  I  came  in  sight  of  the 
neighbor's  house  I  saw  the  man  I  had  come  to  see 
drive  away. 

But  that  proved  to  be  a  piece  of  good  fortune 
for  soon  afterward  I  received  a  letter  from  Moyer, 
my  old  boss,  offering  me  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a 
day  and  board  in  Indiana.  So  I  quickly  packed  all 
my  belongings  including  my  tools,  in  one  trunk, 
and  turning  my  back  on  old  Cayuga's  waters,  I 
travelled  westward  with  the  "  Star  of  Empire  "  to 
La  Porte.  I  still  have  a  vivid  recollection  of  ar- 
riving before  daylight  in  that  prairie  town  whose 
only  pavement  was  sticky  mud,  on  a  foggy  morn- 
ing in  April.  It  was  not  a  grown-up  man  but  a 
tired,  sleepy,  hungry  boy  who  found  his  way  to  the 
hotel. 

Did  you  ever  arrive  at  one  of  those  dirty  country 
hotels  while  every  joint  was  aching  from  a  night's 
wrestle  with  a  jump-car  seat,  only  to  meet  a  surly 
porter  already  half  asleep?  I  must  confess  that 
that  morning  was  one  of  the  gloomiest  in  my  life. 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     109 

From  the  banks  of  picturesque  Cayuga,  from  a 
clean  home  and  loving  friends;  to  these  muddy 
ague-breeding  prairie  streets,  this  filthy  hotel  and 
these  unfriendly  faces,  was  all  to  sudden-like. 

But  when  I  had  had  a  good  wash-up  and  break- 
fast, and  when  the  fog  had  lifted,  my  new-found 
country  looked  more  attractive  though  it  seemed 
far  too  flat  to  my  unaccustomed  eyes.  A  walk  of 
about  a  mile  brought  me  to  the  house  of  a  Mr. 
Allen  where  I  found  my  old  boss,  Moyer,  at  work 
with  his  white  shirt-sleeves  rolled  up  and  his  bright 
red  undershirt  flaming  among  the  white  shavings. 
The  long  ribbons  that  he  sliced  off  the  side  of  a 
board  were  as  beautiful  to  me  in  my  homesickness 
as  those  that  had  charmed  me  and  given  direction 
to  my  life  long  before  in  my  uncle's  unfinished 
house.  By  i  o'clock  of  the  same  day  I  was  work- 
ing on  the  other  side  of  the  bench  from  that 
patient,  kind  and  expert  Pennsylvanian. 

The  cornice  —  which  we  were  preparing  by 
hand,  millwork  then  being  unknown  —  was  for  a 
house  to  be  erected  on  one  of  Mr.  Allen's  farms 
three  miles  away.  One  morning  a  gang  of  well 
diggers  passed  on  their  way  to  sink  a  well  on  this 
farm;  upon  seeing  them  returning  about  sun-down 
of  the  same  day  I  remarked  that  something  must 


1 1  o  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

be  wrong.  Mr.  Allen  explained  that  doubtless  the 
well  was  completed,  as  they  were  bringing  their 
windlass  with  them,  and  I  wondered  what  kind  of 
a  well  two  men  could  dig  in  a  day !  Later,  I  found 
out  that  the  well  was  only  fifteen  feet  deep  with 
four  feet  of  water  in  it;  the  soil  was  porous  at  the 
surface,  with  a  layer  of  sand  lower  down  which 
began  to  fill  with  water  at  a  depth  of  twelve  feet. 
Even  at  a  depth  of  six  to  seven  feet  there  was 
danger  of  cave-ins  and  therefore  the  well  was 
curbed  in  the  following  manner. 

A  ring  perhaps  thirty  inches  inside  diameter  and 
four  inches  wide  on  its  face,  was  made  out  of  two 
layers  of  one  inch  boards  nailed  together.  Upon 
this  ring  when  placed  in  the  well,  were  laid  well- 
bricks —  about  fourteen  to  the  circle  —  until  the 
surface  of  the  ground  was  reached.  The  digging 
could  then  go  on  safely  and,  as  the  sand  was  re- 
moved, the  brick  wall  settled  and  more  bricks  were 
added  at  the  top.  As  soon  as  the  water  began  to 
come  in  the  sand  was  scooped  out  with  a  curious 
dipper  which  had  its  handle  attached  at  an  acute 
angle.  When  the  water  rose  to  the  arm-pits  of 
the  digger,  or  rather,  when  the  digger  sank  into 
the  water  by  reason  of  the  removal  of  the  quick- 
sand, the  well  was  considered  finished.  If  the 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     1 1 1 

water  ever  became  too  shallow,  more  quicksand 
was  removed,  permitting  the  wall  of  the  well  to 
settle  and  more  bricks  to  be  added  at  the  top. 
On  several  occasions  afterwards  the  knowledge  of 
this  safe  method  of  sinking  a  well  in  treacherous 
earth  was  most  useful  to  me. 

It  took  us  nearly  all  summer  to  erect  Mr.  Allen's 
house  and  repair  the  barn  and  while  the  latter  was 
in  progress  I  had  my  first  experience  with  fever 
and  ague.  In  those  days  Peruvian  bark  and 
whiskey  bitters,  quinine  and  blue-mass  pills,  were 
the  invariable  remedies  or,  more  accurately  speak- 
ing, palliatives,  for  when  cold  weather  came  on 
the  disease  disappeared  only  to  return  the  follow- 
ing year. 

In  the  fall  we  got  a  job  to  build  a  house  on  Hog 
Prairie,  the  very  name  of  which  implied  still  more 
unhealthy  conditions.  Colonel  Place,  Ex-Mayor 
of  La  Porte,  owned  a  large  tract  of  land  along  the 
sluggish,  meandering  Kankakee  river,  upon  which 
cattle  were  grazed.  One  of  his  neighbors  said  it 
was  a  rich  farm  but  there  were  two  objections  to 
it:  six  months  in  the  year  cattle  had  to  be  driven 
three  miles  to  the  river  to  get  a  drink,  and  the 
other  six  months  they  had  to  be  loaded  on  a  flat- 
boat  in  order  to  have  safe  standing  ground  while 
they  drank. 


1 1 2  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

One  day,  after  we  had  been  driven  thirty  miles 
across  country  in  a  two-horse  lumber  wagon,  we 
began  framing  the  house  which  was  to  take  the 
place  of  a  log  shanty.  The  old  shanty,  which  was 
still  occupied  by  a  family,  was  built  of  poles  rather 
than  logs,  about  sixteen  by  eighteen  feet  in  length 
and  was  low  at  the  eaves;  a  "  grecian-bend  "  door- 
way and  a  floor  of  wide,  unmatched  boards  rested 
directly  on  the  wet  ground.  Sometime  before  our 
arrival  the  chimney  and  the  fire-place  had  fallen 
down  leaving  a  hole  about  five  by  six  feet  in  the 
side  of  the  house  which  was  covered  with  some- 
thing resembling  a  blanket.  One  day  at  dinner  we 
were  much  startled  by  a  squeal  "  too  dread  for  any 
earthly  throat:"  the  pot  of  hot,  boiled  potatoes 
had  been  set  aside  and  a  hog  had  slipped  inside  be- 
hind this  curtain  and  sampled  them. 

Between  the  low  door  and  the  stove  there  was  a 
low  pile  of  corncobs  which  served  for  fuel  in  the 
day-time  and  as  a  warm  lounging  place  in  the 
evening  for  the  smaller  children.  The  proverbial 
latchstring  had  long  since  vanished  and  the  latch 
with  it;  an  angling  auger  hole  for  receiving  a  pin 
had  been  bored  into  the  end  of  one  of  the  door 
logs  and  whenever  anyone  wished  to  enter  someone 
on  the  inside  had  to  unloose  the  pin.  Some  of  the 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     113 

boys  substituted  a  corn  cob  for  the  wooden  pin 
and  then  when  there  was  a  quick  push  on  the  door 
the  cob  would  break  and  the  door  come  open.  A 
fresh  cob  served  to  secure  the  door  again  and  to 
push  the  broken  one  out. 

The  first  evening  I  wondered  where  we  were  all 
to  find  lodgment  for  there  were  in  the  family  a 
father  and  mother,  two  grown  daughters,  a  big 
boy,  a  man  boarder  and  four  younger  lads,  besides 
Moyer  and  myself.  It  reminded  me  of  the  land- 
lord's puzzle  which  was  current  in  my  boyhood: 
the  problem  was  to  put  seven  men  in  six  beds, 
having  only  one  in  a  bed  and  yet  all  in  bed  at  the 
same  time.  The  solution  of  our  problem  was  how- 
ever, much  more  pressing — it  was  how  to  put 
twelve  persons  comfortably  to  sleep  in  four  visible 
beds.  It  was  not  until  later  that  I  discovered  how 
it  was  attempted.  The  parents  and  one  of  the 
smaller  children  slept  in  the  kitchen  bed,  the  two 
grown  girls  in  an  invisible  one  under  it.  The  big 
son  and  the  boarder  slept  in  the  second  bed;  three 
of  the  kids  in  the  third;  and  we  two  carpenters  in 
the  fourth  —  all  three  of  these  being  in  the  Lean-to 
which  was  only  about  ten  feet  wide  and  sixteen 
feet  long.  There  was  a  small  piece  of  glass  left 
in  the  sash  to  mark  where  a  window  had  been  and 


114  AUTOB IOGRA  P  H  Y 

when  you  entered  the  Lean-to  you  might  stand 
erect  but  as  you  advanced  you  had  to  "  jouk." 

I  do  not  know  how  successful  the  Colonel  was 
with  cattle  on  Hog  Prairie,  but  we  had  auricular 
demonstration  of  the  success  of  cat  multiplication. 
After  seven  of  us  had  snuggled  down  in  that 
sunken  Lean-to  the  cats  would  begin  to  land  on 
the  floor  by  twos  and  threes — with  feline  instinct 
they  came  through  the  paneless  window  to  find  a 
soft  warm  place  on  our  beds.  If  they  became  too 
obstreperous  someone  would  declare  war  and  then 
there  was  a  regular  blue  streak  of  cats,  as  the  boys 
would  say. 

There  comes  back  to  me  an  appropriate  verse 
from  a  parody  on  the  "  Ode  to  Music  "  which  I 
learned  in  my  boyhood  and  often  declaimed  from 
the  stage: 

"  Then  came  a  boy  loud  whooping  to  the  gale, 
And  on  his  truant  shoulders  bore  a  pole; 
Two  furious  cats,  suspended  by  the  tail, 
Were  swinging  cheek  by  jowl. 
O  dulcet  cats,  what  was  your  delighted  measure 
With  claws  deep  buried  in  each  other's  face? 
How  did  ye  hiss  and  spit  your  venom  round 
With  murderous  yells  of  more  than  earthly  sound. 
O  dulcet  cats!    Could  one  more  pair  like  you 
The  concert  join  and  pour  the  strain  anew, 
Not  man  could  bear  nor  demons  ear  sustain 
The  fiendish  caterwaul  of  rage  and  pain." 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     115 

Time  fails  to  tell  of  all  the  other  living  things 
there  were  in  that  lean-to  besides  men  and  boys  and 
cats,  but  I  must  not  forget  to  say  that  the  family 
did  everything  it  was  in  their  power  to  do  under 
the  circumstances  to  make  us  comfortable. 

Close  by  the  house  a  railway  ran  along  an  un- 
fenced  right  of  way  and  one  day  the  cowcatcher 
caught  a  steer — one  of  the  Colonel's  fattest  — 
and  pitched  it  into  the  ditch.  For  a  month  there- 
after we  feasted  on  beef,  the  weather  being  cool, 
and  with  plenty  of  other  food  fairly  well  cooked, 
we  had  nothing  to  complain  of  except  those  filthy 
sleeping  quarters  and  the  vermin  that  bunked  with 
us.  As  the  two  girls  were  fairly  proficient  on  the 
violin  and  the  boys  could  sing  a  little,  the  evenings 
were  spent  not  altogether  unpleasantly,  so  long  as 
we  took  no  thought  of  the  night.  I  have  already 
taken  so  much  time  in  describing  the  surroundings 
and  the  first  part  of  our  stay  in  that  land  of  flat- 
ness, mosquitoes  and  ague,  that  I  will  have  to 
pass  over  certain  unique  local  characters  and  hasten 
on  with  my  story. 

As  might  have  been  expected  the  ague  returned 
upon  me  and  after  battling  with  it  for  a  few  days 
I  boarded  the  cars  on  a  Saturday  morning  and 
went  to  Salem  Junction  where  I  expected  to  get  a 


1 1 6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

train  for  La  Porte.  But  unfortunately,  the  only 
train  by  which  I  could  reach  La  Porte  before  mid- 
night had  already  passed  and  I  was  obliged  to  stay 
there.  A  raging  fever  and  a  bed  already  occupied 
by  one  or  two  specious  of  indigenous  fauna  were 
not  conducive  to  sleep.  The  next  day  I  found  a 
sunny  place  in  a  little  wood  adjoining  where  I  did 
get  a  few  fitful  naps  and  at  last,  on  Monday  morn- 
ing, having  virtually  neither  slept  nor  eaten  for 
thirty-eight  hours,  I  reached  La  Porte  in  a  desper- 
ate state !  By  accident  I  met  Colonel  Place's  wife 
at  the  station  and  when  she  saw  how  sick  I  was 
she  insisted  that  I  must  go  home  with  her  and  be 
cared  for.  I  felt  hardly  fit  to  sleep  in  a  stable  and 
the  thought  of  contaminating  one  of  her  immacu- 
late beds  was  worse  even  than  the  ague,  but  she 
compelled  me  to  yield.  In  about  two  weeks  I  re- 
turned to  Hog  Prairie  and  remained  well  until  the 
house  was  completed. 

That  first  fall  in  Indiana  was  a  severe  test  of  my 
courage  and  endurance.  I  was  often  tempted  to 
go  back  to  the  old  home  in  New  York  where  I 
would  have  been  most  warmly  welcomed  but  I  am 
thankful  that  I  did  not  go  for  the  fates  were  kinder 
the  longer  I  stayed.  Somehow  it  seems  to  do  boys 
good  to  pitch  them  out  of  the  home  nest  when  they 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     117 

are  young  and  let  them  get  used  to  turning  short 
corners  while  they  are  supple. 

I  engaged  rooms  and  board  for  the  winter  in 
the  house  which  we  had  erected  on  Stillwell  prairie, 
as  building  could  not  go  on  in  winter  and  I  did  not 
expect  to  have  work.  Mr.  Armstrong,  with  whom 
I  was  stopping,  had  two  nearly  grown  boys  and 
was  anxious  about  their  winter  schooling,  for  it 
had  been  decided  that  the  old  school  house  was  un- 
inhabitable. Finding  out  that  I  had  taught  school 
in  New  York,  and  that  I  was  ready  to  do  almost 
anything  to  avoid  an  idle  winter,  it  was  agreed  that 
I  was  to  teach  in  the  condemned  school  house  ex- 
cept during  the  extreme  cold  days.  A  dollar  per 
day  and  board  was  certainly  small  wages,  but 
better  than  a  winter's  board  bill  and  the  blues. 

On  the  coldest  days  only  the  larger  pupils  would 
put  in  an  appearance.  The  window  cracks  were 
corked  with  paper  and  the  loose  benches  arranged 
in  a  hollow  square  around  the  stove  for  the  pupils 
while  I,  with  overcoat  on,  walked  around  the  out- 
side of  the  square  and  gave  help  and  heard  recita- 
tions. By  noon  the  stove  would  be  so  full  of  un- 
consumed  coals  from  too  rapid  firing  that  they  had 
to  be  carried  out  and  a  new  fire  built.  I  wonder 
now  that  we  did  not  set  that  old  red  school  house 
afire  by  our  reckless  stoking. 


n8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Nothing  worth  relating  happened  that  winter 
except,  perhaps,  the  following  little  incident.  One 
morning  I  said  to  my  host :  "  I  am  certain  to  have 
chills  and  fever  today,  and  when  the  fever  is  at  its 
height  I  am  often  flighty  —  I  don't  want  to  make 
a  fool  of  myself  —  but  I  don't  like  to  dismiss 
school." 

"Go  to  the  cupboard  and  take  a  good  swig 
from  that  jug  of  whiskey-and-Peruvian  bark  bit- 
ters," said  he.  I  did  as  directed,  ate  a  little  break- 
fast and  upon  attempting  to  rise  from  the  table 
remarked:  "Armstrong,  I'm  drunk!" 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing,"  said  he,  "  you  took  it  on 
an  empty  stomach.  Take  another  good  big  swig  to 
sober  yourself  and  then  run  all  the  way  to  the 
school  house !  " 

Since  I  was  taking  the  Armstrong  treatment,  I 
obeyed.  The  snow  was  about  a  foot  deep  and  the 
horses  and  sleigh  runners  had  formed  two  narrow 
slippery  paths.  Such  paths  are  hard  enough  to 
walk  in  when  sober,  and  for  a  man  light  in  the 
head  it  was  an  impossible  task.  So  I  essayed  a 
dog-trot,  leaving  many  footprints  outside  the 
beaten  track;  but  I  arrived  at  the  school  house 
sober  as  he  had  predicted  and  I  had  no  delirium 
that  day. 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     119 

As  soon  as  the  school  closed  in  the  spring 
Moyer  and  Roberts  formed  a  verbal  copartner- 
ship and  employed  one  journeyman  and  two  ap- 
prentices. Moyer  was  to  receive  $2  and  I  $1.50 
per  day  and  board.  We  also  received  twenty-five 
cents  a  day  out  of  the  wages  of  each  of  the  others 
for  the  use  of  the  tools,  et  cetera,  with  which  we 
furnished  them.  We  usually  began  work  imme- 
diately after  an  early  breakfast  and  worked  until 
sundown,  with  an  hour's  nooning  and  the  time  to 
eat  a  5  o'clock  supper,  taken  out  —  making  a 
twelve-hour  day. 

The  second  winter  I  taught  the  Stillwell  school 
and  received  $1.25  per  day  and  boarded  round. 
The  school  had  become  demoralized  because  of 
teachers  who  were  deficient  in  ability  to  control 
large  boys.  Firm  but  just  treatment  and  a  few 
osage-orange  switches,  carried  me  and  the  pupils 
through  safely.  The  larger  boys  got  into  the  habit 
of  playing  "  fox  and  hounds "  which  resulted  in 
their  not  being  present  sometimes  when  the  after- 
noon session  began.  I  requested  them  not  to  go 
beyond  the  sound  of  the  school  bell;  they  soon 
broke  this  rule  and  one  day  they  found  the  school 
door  locked  against  them.  When  they  had  all 
arrived  I  opened  it  and  marched  them  all  in  and 


120  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

stood  them  around  the  hot  stove  to  dry.  One  of 
the  other  pupils  was  sent  to  the  osage-orange  fence 
and  directed  to  cut  and  bring  me  eight  whips. 
Meanwhile  I  had  taken  so  much  time  to  consider 
the  matter  that  standing  around  the  hot  stove 
became  a  punishment.  I  knew  that  it  was  a  dan- 
gerous situation  for,  in  the  previous  winter,  the 
large  pupils  had  placed  the  teacher  in  one  of  thf 
seats  and  then  a  pupil  had  gone  through  the 
motions  of  teaching  the  school. 

In  order  to  get  the  advantage  of  them  I  ar- 
ranged the  eight  in  a  row  and  taking  one  of  the 
whips  —  which  were  quite  brittle  —  I  gave  the 
first  boy  one  good  cut  and  commanded  him  in  no 
uncertain  tone :  "  Take  your  seat !  "  The  second 
boy  was  served  with  switch  number  two  and  the 
same  command,  and  so  on  down  the  line.  Before 
the  job  was  half  done  someone  laughed,  then  all 
of  them  roared,  even  the  lads  who  were  receiving 
one  stroke  each,  and  what  was  a  dangerous  begin- 
ning ended  happily  on  both  sides.  The  news  of 
this  affair  spread  through  the  countryside  and  I 
gained  a  reputation  for  clever  discipline  and  very 
cheaply  withal. 

In  changing  from  teaching  to  carpentering  in 
the  spring  and  vice  versa  in  the  fall  I  rarely  lost 


MARGARET  MARR  ROBERTS 
(Mrs.  I.  P.  Roberts)    1887. 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     121 

more  than  a  day's  work.  The  following  summer 
Moyer  and  I  added  two  more  hands  to  our  build- 
ing gang;  this  gave  him  twenty-one  shillings  per 
day  —  $2.62^ — and  me  seventeen  shillings  — 
$2.12^/2 — and  our  board.  Since  we  always  did 
country  carpentering,  expenses  were  almost  a  neg- 
ligible quantity :  clothing,  Sunday  board  and  wash- 
ing altogether,  only  slightly  reduced  my  savings.  I 
had  learned  my  lesson  long  before  when  taking 
that  joy-ride  while  I  was  teaching  at  Beerytown. 

At  the  end  of  three  years  of  alternate  teaching 
and  carpentering,  on  the  3d  day  of  November, 
1857,  I  was  married  to  Margaret  Jane  Marr, 
daughter  of  William  and  Mary  (Reader)  Marr 
who  had  moved  about  ten  years  previously  from 
Pennsylvania  to  a  farm  near  La  Porte,  Indiana. 
Mr.  Marr  was  of  direct  Scotch  origin  and  Mrs. 
Marr  of  German  and  Dutch  ancestry. 

My  wife  and  I  left  immediately  for  a  trip  to 
my  old  home  in  New  York.  The  journey  was  ac- 
complished with  difficulty  in  those  days  for  the 
country  was  flooded  with  wild-cat  paper  money 
which  would  not  pass  outside  of  the  state  in  which 
it  was  issued,  and  gold  exchange  could  not  be  se- 
cured at  any  discount.  Although  I  had  sufficient 
wild-cat  money  brought  from  Indiana,  I  had  to 


122  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

borrow  money  from  a  brother  for  the  return 
journey.  By  the  first  of  December  I  was  back  in 
the  Stillwell  school  house  and  again  teaching.  In 
the  spring  of  1858  on  taking  stock  of  my  resources 
three  years  after  my  arrival  in  Indiana,  I  found 
that  I  had  about  $700  loaned  out  at  10  per  cent, 
interest,  $100  in  bills  receivable,  and  a  most  charm- 
ing wife  —  value  as  yet  unknown. 

That  same  spring  I  purchased  forty-eight  acres 
of  land  on  the  edge  of  the  little  village  of  Kings- 
bury;  moved  into  some  upper  rooms  there  and 
began  to  build  a  modest  one-and-a-half  story  house. 
My  brother-in-law,  Daniel  Marr,  worked  the  farm 
while  I  spent  the  summer  building  for  myself  and 
others.  The  following  winter  I  again  taught  the 
Stillwell  school,  boarding  at  home  and  walking 
most  of  the  time  a  distance  of  eight  miles  daily 
to  and  from  my  school.  In  the  spring  of  1859  we 
took  an  orphan  boy  about  fifteen  years  of  age  into 
the  family,  who  worked  on  the  farm  in  summer 
and  attended  school  in  winter.  This  permitted  me 
to  spend  four  or  five  days  of  each  week  away  from 
home,  carpentering.  I  frequently  spent  Saturday 
helping  the  boy  catch  up  with  pressing  farm  work, 
sometimes  doing  two  days'  work  in  one,  as  the  say- 
ing is,  which  made  it  pleasant  to  rest  on  Sunday. 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     123 

The  following  winter  I  taught  the  village  school, 
and,  for  fear  I  should  lack  for  exercise,  I  became 
the  sexton  of  the  church. 

The  farm  had  been  bought  just  before  the  prices 
of  farm  products  had  begun  to  fall  —  due  in  part 
to  unrest  over  the  slavery  question,  and  in  part 
to  over-production  of  the  leading  staples.  The 
monetary  conditions  —  especially  in  the  west,  were 
most  unsatisfactory.  Money  received  one  day  at 
100  cents  on  the  dollar,  was  worth  on  the  next 
perhaps  80  cents  and  the  following  week  may  be 
nothing.  It  did  not  take  a  prophet  to  foresee  that 
the  unrest  of  the  country  meant  trouble,  but  just 
how  or  when  the  storm  would  break  no  one  was 
wise  enough  to  predict.  Party  lines  were  being 
drawn  tighter  and  tighter  and  the  names,  "  Black 
Abolitionist "  and  "  Copperhead  "  began  to  be 
bandied  about  —  old  friends  and  even  brothers 
ranging  themselves  in  antagonism. 

In  spite  of  these  unfortunate  conditions  I  man- 
aged to  sell  the  farm  in  1862  for  as  much  as  I 
gave  for  it  though  I  lost  most  of  the  value  of  the 
improvements.  But  it  had  never  brought  an  in- 
come sufficient  to  pay  running  expenses,  if  the  im- 
provements, such  as  buildings,  fences  and  added 
productivity  of  the  land  were  counted,  as  they 


1 24  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

should  be.  I  had  spent  three  years  of  my  life  in 
faithful  work,  chiefly  carpentering,  without  much 
financial  advancement  and,  worst  of  all,  I  had 
gained  no  valuable  experience.  All  the  farmers 
of  that  time  were  in  a  similar  case  —  we  were 
raising  products  which  could  not  be  sold  for  what 
it  cost  to  produce  them,  sometimes  not  even  for 
one-half. 

The  last  school  I  taught  in  Indiana  during  the 
winter  of  1 860-61,  was  in  the  new  schoolhouse 
that  had  supplanted  the  old  one  where  I  first 
taught.  A  Democrat  withdrew  his  children  from 
the  school  because  I  taught  that  our  government 
was  not  a  pure  democracy  but  a  representative 
democracy  and  because,  worst  of  all,  I  had  called 
our  country  "  a  republic."  During  the  following 
summer  I  found  some  work  at  carpentering  but 
all  industrial  conditions  were  growing  steadily 
worse  because  of  the  War  which  had  meantime 
begun. 

By  this  time  the  firm  of  Moyer  and  Roberts  had 
dissolved  and  the  efficient  journeymen  whom  they 
had  employed  were  scattered  —  gone  west,  as  most 
people  do  when  they  meet  with  problems  that  they 
cannot  solve.  We  are  all  very  much  alike  when 
life  grows  difficult:  instead  of  fighting  it  out  we 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     125 

are  apt  to  conclude  that  any  change  would  be  for 
the  better  and,  usually,  it  is  a  wise  conclusion.  The 
advice  given  to  an  old  farmer  whose  pigs  were 
doing  badly :  "  If  they  are  shut  up,  turn  them 
out,  if  they  are  running  out,  shut  them  up,"  was 
wise  if  not  altogether  scientific. 

In  the  winter  of  1861-2  for  the  first  time  I  did 
not  teach  school ;  everything  conspired  to  drive  me 
back  to  farming.  I  spent  the  first  part  of  the 
winter  in  pricing  land,  but  it  had  not  gone  down 
with  the  prices  of  farm  products.  Coming  home 
one  evening  cold,  wet  and  discouraged,  I  said  to 
my  wife :  "  Let's  go  west  —  there  is  nothing  in 
this  country  for  us !  "  "I  am  ready  and  have  been 
for  a  year,"  she  replied.  "But  I'm  in  earnest," 
said  I.  "  So  am  I,"  she  answered  promptly  and 
so  that  momentous  decision  was  made. 

Only  ten  days  after  this  conversation  all  except 
a  few  personal  things  were  sold  at  public  vendue. 
The  two-horse  wagon  was  "bowed"  and  the  ribs 
first  covered  with  carpeting,  and  then  with  oilcloth 
securely  fastened.  A  thousand  pounds,  perhaps, 
of  goods  which  had  been  packed  in  boxes,  consti- 
tuted the  load.  A  spring  wagon  seat,  a  plank  foot- 
warmer,  and  plenty  of  robes  and  blankets,  gave 
promise  of  comfort  on  our  long  journey.  About 


126  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

the  middle  of  February,  1862,  two  stout  horses 
were  in-spanned,  and  we  turned  our  faces  toward 
Mount  Pleasant,  Iowa.  We  chose  this  place  rather 
than  another  because  Nathan  Palmer  of  Stillwell 
Prairie,  whose  children  had  been  in  school  with 
me,  was  living  there.  If  on  our  overland  journey 
the  cold  prairie  winds  should  make  it  too  uncom- 
fortable for  the  mother  and  baby  Mary  —  then 
sixteen  months  old  —  I  planned  to  send  them  on 
ahead  by  rail,  for  our  route  lay  nearly  parallel 
with  a  main  line.  If  it  thawed  out  and  if  the 
bottom  of  the  prairie  roads  fell  out  as  they  some- 
times did  even  in  mid-winter,  the  boxes  of  goods 
could  be  shipped  and  the  span  and  wagon  could 
still  be  driven  to  their  destination. 

As  it  happened  however,  the  roads  were  ideal; 
an  early  warm  spell  followed  by  rain  and  a  sudden 
freeze  had  left  them  hard,  smooth  and  icy;  one 
could  almost  have  skated  across  the  state  of  Illi- 
nois. We  always  began  each  day's  journey  late 
in  the  morning,  drove  rapidly,  made  the  lunch  hour 
short,  and  put  up  for  the  night  as  early  as  possible. 
With  the  good  roads  and  a  team  always  fresh, 
although  the  load  exceeded  half-a-ton  weight,  the 
horses  could  be  kept  at  a  trot  most  of  the  time. 
My  horses  proved  the  economy  of  an  eight-hour 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     127 

day.  We  took  the  main  emigrant  road,  leading 
always  westward,  which  was  already  settled  some- 
what along  its  borders;  and  as  the  farmers  were 
accustomed  and  glad  to  entertain  travellers  we 
had  little  difficulty  in  obtaining  accommodations. 

On  the  4th  day  of  March,  1862,  about  4  p.  m., 
we  drove  across  the  Mississippi  river,  at  Burling- 
ton, on  the  ice.  We  were  then  only  one  long  day's 
drive  from  our  destination  so  instead  of  stopping 
in  Burlington  we  pushed  on  for  another  hour. 
For  the  first  time  we  were  turned  away  from  the 
farmhouses  not  once  but  several  times,  although  it 
had  begun  to  snow  and  the  wind  was  rising  to  a 
gale.  By  this  time  the  baby  was  crying  from  long 
confinement  and  cold,  so  at  the  next  house,  we  did 
not  even  ask  for  shelter  but  bundled  out  and  in- 
sisted upon  being  taken  in.  In  the  dark  we  had  not 
seen  that  it  was  a  tavern  but  it  proved  to  be  a  de- 
lightful one ;  and  the  next  day,  a  little  after  noon, 
we  arrived  at  Mount  Pleasant,  Iowa,  and  were 
among  friends.  Notwithstanding  the  predictions 
of  our  friends  in  Indiana  it  had  been  a  very  com- 
fortable journey;  and  an  instructive  one  also,  al- 
though I  did  not  fully  digest  all  the  ideas  I  picked 
up  until  afterward. 

In  a  few  days  I  rented  forty  acres  of  land  ad- 
joining the  town  limits  of  Mount  Pleasant,  which 


128  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

was  offered  to  me  a  few  months  later  at  $35  an 
acre,  including  a  fairly  good  house  and  a  small 
barn  —  but  I  did  not  buy  it.  Six  years  afterward 
I  offered  $100  an  acre  for  this  same  land  but 
could  not  secure  it  at  that  price.  Taking  into  con- 
sideration the  price  of  farm  products  at  the  two 
periods,  the  latter  price  was  cheaper  than  the 
former.  To  illustrate  the  paralysis  of  business 
and  the  poverty  of  the  farmers  of  the  Middle 
West  from  1860  to  1864,  some  of  the  prices  of 
farm  products  may  be  cited.  Soon  after  my  ar- 
rival in  1862,  a  farmer  sold  me  good  butter  at 
four  pounds  for  twenty-five  cents;  seed  oats  cost 
me  twelve  and  one-half  cents  per  bushel  which 
was  two  and  one-half  cents  above  the  market 
price ;  I  purchased  two  two-year-old  heifers  nearly 
ready  to  freshen  for  $8  a  piece,  one  of  which  I  sold 
a  few  years  later  for  $35.  Although  I  was  paid 
in  greenbacks,  which  were  variable  in  value,  I  was 
satisfied,  since  we  had  gained  the  use  of  a  good 
cow  for  several  years. 

And  this  reminds  me  of  one  of  the  little  inci- 
dents of  our  emigrant  journey.  On  a  Saturday 
night  we  stopped  at  a  quiet  farmhouse  and  stayed 
until  Monday  morning ;  on  asking  for  my  bill  my 
host  replied:  "Since  you  have  respected  the 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     129 

Sabbath  day  I  will  charge  you  but  half  price  — 
one  dollar."  For  some  time  I  had  been  carrying 
one  of  those  foolish  but  precious  little  one-dollar 
gold  pieces  — "  good  for  the  eyes,"  we  used  to  call 
them  —  and  I  gave  him  that  cherished  coin,  re- 
marking :  "  You  have  been  so  liberal  I  will  pay 
you  in  real  money,  not  in  promises."  Ten  meals 
and  horse-feed  for  a  day  and  two-thirds,  for  one 
dollar  in  gold,  which  was  equivalent  to  two  dollars 
in  currency,  was  certainly  liberal.  Only  yesterday 
in  this  year  of  1910  a  carpenter  worked  six  hours 
for  me  and  charged  for  a  full  day,  for  which  I 
paid  him  $5  in  gold.  From  this  one  might  almost 
conclude  that  I  made  a  mistake  when  I  exchanged 
the  saw  and  the  hammer  for  the  cap  and  gown. 

At  the  time  I  settled  near  Mount  Pleasant,  Iowa, 
the  condition  of  the  farmers  was  most  unfortunate ; 
although  in  the  midst  of  plenty  they  were  really 
very  poor.  Little  hamlets  were  strung  over 
those  fertile  prairies  along  the  railway  like  tiny 
beads  on  a  string.  The  village  was  usually  on 
one  side  of  the  track  and  corn  cribs  without  num- 
ber on  the  other  side.  You  might  suppose  that  I 
would  glory  in  those  ample  graneries  filled  to  over- 
flowing with  the  golden  harvest,  the  result  of  mak- 
ing a  thousand  bushels  of  corn  grow  where  only 


130  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

one  buffalo  grew  before ;  but  did  you  ever  realize 
what  it  means  to  a  farmer  to  sell  a  bushel  —  70  to 
75  pounds  —  of  corn  in  the  ear  for  ten  cents? 
Imagine  him  if  you  can,  housed  in  a  little,  poorly- 
built  pre-emption  shanty,  eight  or  more  miles  from 
a  railway  station  on  a  treeless  prairie  and  far  from 
neighbors ;  and  in  a  climate  windy  and  cold  for  six 
months  in  the  year;  having  always  more  corn  in 
the  field  than  he  can  husk  and  no  money  with  which 
to  purchase  the  most  indispensable  things  or  to 
employ  help  to  gather  in  the  fall  harvest! 
Imagine,  I  say,  such  a  farmer,  out  in  the  field  by 
sunrise  some  frosty  morning,  with  a  span  of  horses 
and  wagon,  husking  a  load  of  corn,  which  means 
thirty  bushels,  and  which  would  keep  him  at  work 
all  of  the  short  autumn  day.  The  next  day  he 
must  take  the  corn  to  one  of  those  long  fence- 
board  cribs  at  the  station,  ranged  parallel  with 
the  railroad  track  —  another  day's  work!  And 
for  all  this  labor  of  man  and  team  —  growing, 
harvesting  and  delivery  —  he  received  only  three 
paper  dollars ! 

With  these  he  crossed  over  to  the  store  and 
traded  the  value  of  thirty  bushels  of  corn  for 
clothing  for  his  wife  and  children  and  a  few  in- 
dispensable groceries.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  on 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     131 

his  return  home,  after  caring  for  the  livestock 
and  milking  the  cow  before  he  seated  himself  at 
the  family  board  —  groaning  with  plenty  —  he 
spitefully  threw  a  liberal  supply  of  corn  on  the  fire 
and  said:  "Damn  you,  burn,  You  ain't  worth 
anything  at  the  station  or  anywhere  else,  so  I'll 
keep  warm  until  I  enlist  and  then  I  suppose  the 
Johnnies  will  make  it  warm  enough  for  me  with- 
out burning  corn !  " 

Those  who  now  occupy  those  fertile  prairies, 
dotted  with  groves  and  orchards  amid  which  are 
comfortable,  well-provisioned  homes,  can  hardly 
realize  the  heroism  and  suffering  incident  to  the 
settlement  of  that  part  of  the  Middle  West  which 
was  reclaimed  between  1850  and  1863.  Produc- 
tion had  so  far  outrun  consumption  and  popula- 
tion as  to  make  many  farm  products  unsalable  at 
any  price.  No  one  appeared  to  understand  the 
trouble  much  less  offered  a  remedy  for  it.  The 
struggle  for  a  home  on  the  prairies  was,  I  can  but 
think,  a  far  more  severe  one  than  that  which  had 
been  waged  by  my  ancestors  in  the  wooded  dis- 
tricts of  Central  New  York  at  the  beginning  of  the 
Nineteenth  Century. 

The  corn  cribbed  at  the  station  was  not  shipped 
for  many  months  after  it  was  produced  but  was 


132  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

held  for  speculative  purposes.  The  owners  sold 
it  many  times  but  as  it  could  not  be  stored  in 
Chicago  the  difference  in  price  between  the  first 
day  of  the  month  and  the  last,  was  paid  when  the 
corn  was  resold.  If  a  part  of  the  corn  was  really 
wanted  in  Chicago  it  could  be  shelled  and  deliv- 
ered in  less  than  a  week.  By  the  end  of  harvest  in 
1864  corn  had  advanced  to  twenty  cents  per 
bushel;  at  the  present  time  the  papers  are  quoting 
corn  in  Chicago  at  sixty-five  cents  which  price 
gives  the  most  successful  raiser  of  it  possibly  ten 
to  fifteen  cents  per  bushel,  on  the  average,  clear 
profit.  I  had  left  some  cribs  of  corn  in  Indiana 
which  I  ordered  shelled  and  marketed  in  the  fall 
of  1863;  the  returns  gave  me  eighteen  cents  per 
bushel  net,  while  it  had  cost  me  between  thirty  and 
fifty  cents  to  raise  that  corn! 

In  the  fall  of  that  year  I  had  about  thirty  acres 
of  corn  ready  to  harvest  from  the  rented  forty 
acres  near  Mount  Pleasant,  Iowa.  If  you  ask 
why  I  raised  corn,  my  answer  is:  because  every- 
body else  did  and  because  of  all  farm  crops  in  that 
region  it  was  the  surest,  the  most  easily  raised  and 
harvested.  A  farmer  without  capital  and  without 
harvesting  implements  was  compelled  to  take  the 
direction  of  least  resistance.  I  suppose  I  must 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     133 

have  had  between  800  and  1,000  bushels  of  shelled 
corn,  that  is,  1,200  to  1,500  half  bushels  of  ears, 
one  and  a  half  bushels  of  which  were  counted  a 
bushel  of  shelled  corn.  It  would  sell  for  twenty 
cents  a  bushel,  but  I  had  no  liking  for  the  job  of 
husking  and  marketing  thirty  acres  of  corn  at  that 
price.  Fortunately,  I  had  a  little  money  in  bank 
which  I  invested  in  some  hogs,  thin  in  flesh,  weigh- 
ing from  75  to  100  pounds  each,  at  less  than  two 
cents  per  pound  live  weight.  The  hogs  were  gath- 
ered in  a  large  yard  on  the  borders  of  a  creek  and 
were  fed  snapped  corn.  It's  play  to  feed  snapped 
corn  with  gloves  on  on  a  frosty  morning  and  much 
more  fun  to  watch  the  hogs  husk  it  than  to  husk  it 
yourself.  I  received  for  the  hogs  when  fat  two 
cents  per  pound  live  weight  —  no  shrinkage  — 
and  through  them  a  trifle  over  forty  centy  a  bushel 
for  the  corn  fed  to  them,  as  nearly  as  I  could 
estimate  it. 

I  had  been  told  by  my  father  that  a  bushel  of 
corn  when  fed  would  produce  ten  pounds  of  pork 
plus  enough  to  pay  liberally  for  the  work  of  feed- 
ing it  out  and  caring  for  the  animals.  I  had 
learned  by  experience  that  the  most  profitable 
swine  to  feed  were  lean  ones  —  frames,  we  called 
them  —  which  were  from  six  months  to  one  year 


134  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

of  age.  I  wondered  at  the  time  why  the  owners  of 
the  hogs  that  I  purchased,  did  not  feed  them  to 
fattening,  for  even  if  they  had  no  corn  they  could 
make  more  profit  by  holding  the  hogs  and  buying 
corn  to  feed,  than  by  selling  them  to  me.  I  have 
since  discovered  that  thoughtless  farmers  some- 
times imagine  that  by  selling  both  the  livestock  and 
the  feed  they  make  double  money.  During  that 
winter  I  also  learned,  to  my  loss,  that  mature  fat 
cattle  can  be  made  to  gain  very  little  if  any  on  dry 
feed,  in  the  winter  months,  however  carefully  they 
may  be  fed.  I  have  set  down  the  above  results  in 
fattening  animals  to  show  how  I  received  a  valu- 
able part  of  my  education  in  agriculture. 

About  one  year  after  we  arrived  in  Mount 
Pleasant  a  mild  form  of  varioloid  appeared  in  the 
town ;  so  mild  that  few  precautions  were  taken  to 
check  its  spread.  At  that  time  physicians  differed 
widely  as  to  the  nature  of  the  disease.  Mrs.  Rob- 
erts, having  been  exposed  to  contagion  at  a  public 
gathering,  had  a  mild  case ;  but  my  little  daughter, 
Mary,  had  a  severe  attack  of  real  small-pox. 
When  the  family  had  about  recovered  I  took  an 
orphan  boy  about  fourteen  years  of  age  to  raise 
and  to  school.  Although  he  had  been  vaccinated 
before  he  came  to  the  house,  we  had  but  little  faith 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     135 

in  it  for  we  had  all  been  vaccinated  and  I  alone  had 
escaped  —  probably  owing  to  a  vaccination  in  my 
boyhood.  Therefore  when  the  boy's  fever  rose 
from  vaccination  we  decided  at  once  to  move  out 
to  the  farm  which  we  had  recently  purchased  and 
which  was  five  miles  from  town. 

The  farm,  or  rather  the  two  farms,  were  in 
bad  condition  and  the  houses  were  even  worse. 
They  had  been  so  much  neglected  that  they  were 
hardly  habitable,  but  we  moved  in  to  one  of  them 
and  suffered  the  inconvenience  of  repairing  it  over 
our  heads.  What  with  these  discomforts  and 
another  possible  case  of  small-pox,  the  first  days  at 
the  farm  were  anything  but  joyous.  Nor  was  this 
all :  an  Irish  family  had  come  from  Indiana  expect- 
ing to  occupy  one  of  the  houses  and  to  work  a  part 
of  the  land.  Their  household  goods  being  delayed 
in  transit,  they  were  allowed  to  remain  in  the 
house  from  which  we  had  moved  and  to  use  some 
of  our  household  fixtures  —  and  they  also  de- 
veloped small-pox.  The  parents  and  the  oldest 
girl  had  had  the  disease  in  Ireland  but  in  just  nine 
days  one  of  their  children  came  down  and  in  eigh- 
teen days,  another. 

I  brought  to  the  farm  some  mother  hogs  and 
their  offspring;  by  mid-summer  they  had  all  died 


136  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

with  the  hog  cholera,  save  two  or  three  that  re- 
covered but  might  better  have  died.  Before  I 
could  start  raising  hogs  again  the  farm  had  to  be 
disinfected  or  at  any  rate,  all  the  places  where  the 
hogs  had  ever  nested.  There  was  no  barn  or 
stable  on  the  place  and  the  cattle  of  the  former 
owner  had  spent  most  of  the  time  during  the  pre- 
vious winter  on  the  leeward  side  of  the  house,  con- 
sequently our  dwelling  was  surrounded  by  a 
muddy,  poached  barnyard  without  fences. 

That  spring  was,  however,  the  darkness  that 
comes  just  before  daylight.  I  had  paid  out  all  my 
money  on  the  farms  and  was  still  in  debt;  I  could 
not  buy  hogs  so  I  sowed  a  large  area  to  oats  which, 
fortunately,  sold  for  fifty  cents  per  bushel.  I  used 
to  haul  100  bushels  to  the  load,  that  is,  I  received 
fifty  dollars  as  compared  to  the  three  dollars  per 
load  which  the  Illinois  farmers  had  received  for 
their  corn  two  years  previously.  The  next  summer, 
however,  my  hold-over  snap  corn  sold  at  the  crib 
for  seventy  cents  per  bushel. 

I  think  it  was  in  January,  1864,  that  my  wife 
and  I  took  stock  again  and  found  that  we  were 
out  of  debt  and  that  the  farm  was  paid  for.  Some- 
time during  the  latter  part  of  that  month  we  left 
home  on  a  Saturday  to  attend  some  meetings  at 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     137 

the  Baptist  Church  in  Mount  Pleasant,  expecting 
to  return  on  Monday.  On  coming  out  of  the 
church  after  the  Saturday  evening  service  we  were 
met  by  Patrick,  our  tenant,  and  told  that  our 
house  and  all  its  contents  had  been  burned  up. 
There  was  no  insurance  —  the  house  was  hardly 
worth  insuring —  but  we  had  hoped  it  would  serve 
until  a  new  one  could  be  built. 

How  did  it  get  on  fire?  That  will  never  be 
known.  Bridget,  the  wife  of  Patrick,  was  what 
we  called  "  a  rank  Copperhead,"  and  I  had  given 
her  great  offense  by  hiring  two  colored  boys  who 
had  drifted  over  the  Missouri  line  into  Iowa.  On 
the  night  of  the  fire  Bridget's  son  by  a  former  mar- 
riage, a  deserter  from  the  army  and  said  to  be  a 
professional  bounty  jumper,  was  at  home.  On 
this  night  they  had  on  tap  a  jug  of  whiskey  and 
had  held  high  carnival,  Bridget  as  usual  taking  the 
lead.  On  the  following  Monday  a  neighbor 
brought  us  some  cooking  utensils  which  had  been 
found  in  a  fence  corner  near  Bridget's  house. 
When  questioned,  Bridget  said  that  she  had 
rushed  into  the  burning  house  and  got  them  and 
being  frightened,  had  left  them  by  the  fence.  But 
the  neighbors  who  first  arrived  at  the  fire  reported 
that  no  one  was  able  to  go  farther  than  into  the 


138  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

woodhouse.  From  these  particulars  you  are  able 
to  judge  as  well  as  I,  how  our  house  took  fire. 

It  was  indeed  a  sorrowful  Sunday  when  I  went 
out  to  view  the  ruins ;  but  on  my  way  back  to  town 
on  Monday,  Mr.  O.  H.  P.  Buchanan,  a  neighbor, 
hailed  me  and  handed  me  a  check  for  one  hundred 
dollars,  saying:  "  Take  this,  there  will  be  no  in- 
terest on  it  and  do  not  return  it  until  it  will  not  in- 
convenience you  in  the  least  to  do  so.  Don't  run 
in  debt  but  pay  cash  even  if  you  have  to  borrow  at 
ten  per  cent  interest!  "  That  advice  was,  I  think, 
worth  another  hundred  dollars.  But  that  sum  did 
not  go  far  when  bed-ticking  and  coarse  muslin 
ranged  from  sixty  to  eighty  cents  per  yard  and 
other  household  things  in  proportion,  so  I  bor- 
rowed another  hundred  from  another  friend.  On 
Tuesday  we  returned  to  the  farm  with  a  wagon- 
load  of  goods  and  moved  into  a  large  room  in  a 
kindly  neighbor's  house,  not  far  from  the  site  of 
our  own. 

By  this  time  we  had  a  warm  place  in  our  hearts 
for  friends  and  neighbors  without  regard  to  their 
politics  or  faith.  Before  leaving  town  I  stepped 
into  a  store  to  purchase  a  Bible  and,  while  selecting 
one,  the  fire  was  discussed.  As  the  book  was  being 
wrapped  up  a  stranger  reached  over  my  shoulder 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     139 

and  laid  the  price  of  it  on  the  counter.  I  learned 
afterwards  that  this  man  was  a  livestock  buyer  who 
on  occasion  made  the  air  blue  with  profanity  when 
the  cattle  and  hogs  which  were  being  driven  to  the 
cars  were  not  of  his  way  of  thinking. 

As  soon  as  possible  the  rent  house  which  Pat- 
rick had  lived  in  at  the  other  side  of  the  farm 
was  moved,  by  means  of  two  long  skids  and  eight 
span  of  oxen  and  horses,  and  placed  over  the 
ashes  of  the  one  which  had  been  burned.  Now  it 
is  no  easy  life  to  remodel  an  old  house  and  put  a 
half  story  on  top  of  it  while  living  in  it  and  at  the 
same  time  to  work  as  I  did,  most  of  the  time,  ten 
hours  per  day  on  the  farm.  That  summer  I 
worked  fully  fourteen  hours  per  day  and  occasion- 
ally sixteen  hours  when  I  put  on  lath  by  candle 
light. 

You  may  wonder  what  we  ate  and  drank  —  I 
say  we,  for  the  wife  worked  as  hard  as  I  did — that 
we  were  able  to  endure  such  toil.  Well,  we  did  not 
breakfast  on  cornflakes  or  wheat  germs  nor  drink 
Java  or  Mocha,  for  it  would  have  taken,  at  one 
time,  five  bushels  of  corn  to  buy  one  pound  of 
coffee.  The  beverage  we  drank  was  made  of 
roasted  sorghum;  that  is,  scorched  home-made 
molasses  which  had  enough  of  a  bitter  taste  to 


140  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

make  you  think  it  was  just  going  to  taste  like  cof- 
fee; or  sometimes,  from  roasted  corn,  rye,  wheat 
or  sweet  potatoes.  When  you  became  tired  of  one 
you  were  not  compelled  to  use  it  for  there  were 
half  a  dozen  others  to  choose  from.  We  drank  of 
that  u  war  coffee  "  and  tried  to  believe  it  was  good ; 
and  I  trust  we  have  been  forgiven  for  that  self- 
deception.  But  even  after  these  long  years,  my 
stomach  rises  up  in  rebellion  at  so  much  as  the 
smell  of  "  postum  "  or  chicory  —  give  me  the 
drink  that  cheers  but  does  not  inebriate  the  soldier 
on  his  long  marches !  We  had  almost  no  fruit  and 
lived  chiefly  on  the  staple  foods  raised  on  the  farm. 
If  one  has  two  good  cows,  as  we  had,  they  may  be 
made  to  furnish  one-half  of  a  good  living;  and  a 
loving  wife,  if  stress  comes,  will  usually  manage 
the  other  half. 

Many  years  before  this  time  when  quite  a  small 
lad,  I  had  set  in  the  front  yard  of  the  old  New 
York  homestead,  with  the  assistance  of  my 
mother,  a  black  cherry  tree.  When  I  revisited  the 
old  home  with  my  bride  I  had  cut  our  initials  in 
its  bark;  now  in  the  fall  after  we  were  burnt  out 
there  came  with  other  things  from  home,  a  half 
bushel  of  dried  cherries  from  that  tree.  Thus 
dried  they  appeared  to  be  about  nine-tenths  pit; 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     141 

but  when  stewed  they  made  an  appetizing  dish  and 
perhaps  tasted  better  for  having  come  from  a  tree 
that  had  been  thrice  sanctified. 

By  the  time  we  got  fully  settled  in  the  re- 
modelled house  we  were  a  thousand  dollars  in  debt. 
Not  having  much  corn  to  husk  that  first  year  — 
having  raised  oats  largely  —  I  engaged  to  build  a 
small  house  for  a  neighbor  and  during  the  winter 
I  taught  my  last  public  school.  All  this  was  an 
effort  to  get  out  of  sight  of  the  poorhouse,  for  in 
my  young  days  I  had  visited  a  county  almshouse 
nearly  as  bad  as  the  one  described  in  Eggleston's 
Hoosier  Schoolmaster  and  it  had  made  a  profound 
impression  on  my  mind.  Up  to  that  time  I  had  had 
no  very  definite  plan  of  life  but  for  a  while  after- 
ward my  chief  effort  was  to  make  tracks  away 
from  that  horror  of  my  boyhood;  and  the  diffi- 
culties I  encountered  compelled  me  to  think  to  a 
purpose  and  to  make  farther-reaching  plans. 

Without  attempting  to  set  down  exactly  the 
dates  of  the  incidents  of  the  six  or  seven  years  I 
spent  here,  I  may  relate  some  of  the  more  import- 
ant of  them.  Not  long  after  I  moved  out  to  this 
farm,  Mr.  O.  H.  P.  Buchanan  induced  me  to  take 
150  of  his  fine-wool  ewes  on  shares  —  I  to  feed 
and  care  for  them  and  to  deliver  to  him  one-half 
of  the  washed  wool  and  one-half  of  the  lambs.  I 


142  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

bought  some  sheep  on  my  own  account  also  and 
what  with  these  and  the  increase,  1  soon  had  a 
flock  of  about  five  hundred.  So  many  animals,  of 
course,  could  not  be  pastured  on  eighty  acres  of 
arable  and  twenty  acres  of  rough  pasture  land  and 
still  leave  sufficient  area  for  growing  forage.  To 
the  north  of  the  emigrant  road  near  which  we 
lived,  there  was  a  vast  tract  of  prairie  land  as  yet 
unoccupied.  Five  of  us  farmers  joined  our  flocks 
into  a  band  of  more  than  three  thousand,  and  em- 
ployed a  Scotch  shepherd  to  herd  them  there  day 
and  night,  someone  going  out  with  provisions  to 
him  once  a  week.  This  left  our  farm  land  free 
for  raising  corn  and  hay.  The  corn  was  cut  and 
stocked  (shocked)  in  the  field;  in  the  winter  it  was 
drawn  as  wanted  and  after  it  was  widely  spread, 
the  sheep  husked  and  shelled  it,  saving  us  thereby 
much  disagreeable  work.  It  will  be  observed  that 
a  portion  of  our  profits  were  due  to  "  smouching  " 
the  natural  resources  of  the  unoccupied  prairie 
lands,  but  it  is  the  custom  and  the  common  law  as 
well,  that  perishable  products  on  uninclosed  land 
may  be  used  by  anyone,  provided  no  notice  for- 
bidding it  has  been  posted. 

Through  the  sheep  land  ran  a  sluggish  but  clear 
creek  in  which  the  sheep  were  washed  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner:  A  chute,  wide  enough  for  one 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     143 

sheep  at  a  time  to  pass  down  it,  was  set  with  one 
end  in  the  stream  the  other  against  the  steep  bank 
at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees.  On  the 
bank  a  bottle-shaped  corral  was  built,  the  neck  of 
the  bottle  opening  into  the  head  of  the  chute  and 
the  enclosure  being  large  enough  to  accommodate 
the  entire  band.  Next,  a  lane  of  two  fences  was 
constructed  in  the  creek,  of  stakes  and  one  board, 
one  end  opening  at  the  lower  end  of  the  chute  and 
the  other  on  the  opposite  bank  well  up  stream. 

On  some  fine  morning  the  owners  of  the  sheep 
and  their  wives  and  children,  with  well-filled  picnic 
baskets,  hied  them  to  the  washing  place  where  the 
sheep  were  already  corralled.  A  man  at  the  head 
of  the  chute  grasped  a  sheep  by  the  nape  of  the 
neck  and  sent  it  down  this  slippery,  narrow  way. 
Since  the  sheep  could  not  come  back  nor  stand  still, 
it  made  a  virtue  of  necessity  and  took  a  merry 
skate  down  the  toboggan  slide.  When  it  reached 
the  stream,  another  man,  by  means  of  a  forked 
pole,  baptized  each  sheep  as  it  entered  the  lane 
and  turned  it  up-stream.  It  was  fun  to  sit  on  the 
bank  and  see  the  ancient  saw :  "  One  go,  all  go 
sheep,"  verified;  and  when  they  were  all  run 
through  once  we  ate  our  picnic  dinner  while  they 
were  soaking.  During  the  afternoon  the  sheep 


144  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

were  compelled  to  take  another  plunge  and  the  so- 
called  washing  was  complete.  I  have  never  heard 
of  this  mode  of  washing  sheep  being  practiced  any- 
where else  except  in  Henry  County,  Iowa. 

After  washing  the  sheep  were  allowed  to  run 
for  two  or  three  weeks  that  the  yolk  might  be  re- 
stored to  the  wool  and  pliancy  of  fibre  and  addi- 
tional weight  secured.  Then  they  were  brought  in 
to  one  of  the  farms,  shorn,  and  the  wool  banked 
up  in  the  wool  room.  About  eighteen  to  twenty 
thousand  pounds  were  in  the  storage  pile  and 
finally  sold  to  a  Boston  wool  merchant  for  ninety- 
seven  cents  per  pound.  For  rams'  fleeces,  un- 
washed, one-half  was  deducted;  if  washed,  one- 
third,  and  for  pulled  wool  the  same  reduction  was 
made.  That  was  certainly  a  good  price  for  wool, 
poorly  washed  as  it  was. 

I  sacked  and  delivered  my  share  of  the  wool  at 
one  load  and  banked  a  little  over  $1,700.  Best  of 
all,  perhaps,  I  sold  soon  after  all  my  sheep  though 
not  before  the  price  had  greatly  depreciated.  I 
sold  because  I  was  afraid  that  history  was  about  to 
repeat  itself,  and  it  did.  I  had  read  in  Randall's 
"Practical  Shepherd"  that  Mr.  Livingston  — 
once  American  Minister  to  France  —  had  sold  in 
1810  his  unwashed  wool  from  his  pure-bred 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     145 

Spanish  Merinos  for  two  dollars  a  pound  and  that 
during  the  war  of  1812  wool  rose  to  two-fifty  per 
pound.  At  that  time  the  best  of  imported  rams 
sold  for  a  thousand  dollars  apiece  and  a  few  ewes 
were  sold  for  like  sums.  But  in  1815  the  Peace  of 
Ghent  was  concluded  and  within  a  year  thereafter 
full-blooded  Merinos  were  sold  as  low  as  one  dol- 
lar per  head. 

To  illustrate  some  of  the  uncertainties  that  beset 
sheep-raising  at  this  period  I  jot  down  the  experi- 
ence of  one  of  my  neighbors.  He  had  a  flock  of 
nice,  "  straight"  two-year-old  ewes,  for  which  he 
was  offered  twenty-five  dollars  a  head.  But  they 
had  been  in  a  field  where  it  was  possible  they  might 
have  picked  up  the  germs  of  footrot;  and  as  he  did 
not  like  to  face  possible  damages  for  selling  in- 
fected animals  and  did  not  think  it  wise  to  reveal 
the  fact  that  the  flock  had  grazed  on  pasture  which 
had  once  been  contaminated,  he  declined  to  sell. 
The  sheep  remained  sound  so  far  as  footrot  was 
concerned  but  unfortunately  they  later  contracted 
the  scab  —  a  skin  disease  due  to  a  minute  insect, 
the  icarus  —  and  two  years  after  he  received  this 
offer,  most  of  this  flock  of  ewes  had  to  be 
slaughtered,  their  pelts  removed  and  the  carcasses 
fed  to  swine.  They  could  have  been  cured  by  a 


146  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

few  dippings  in  a  medicated  bath  but,  by  this 
time,  sheep  had  fallen  to  one  dollar  per  head  so 
that  the  cost  of  cure  would  have  been  a  large  per 
cent  of  the  selling  price.  The  footrot,  the  scab 
and  an  atrophied  market  utterly  destroyed  the 
sheep  industry  in  the  state  of  Iowa  and  where 
thousands  of  sheep  once  grazed  scarcely  one  can 
now  be  found.  On  the  other  hand,  at  the  close  of 
1864  fat  hogs  sold  for  as  high  as  twelve  and  one- 
half  cents  per  pound  live  weight;  and  it  was  said 
that  one  man  sold  a  single  fat  porker  for  a  little 
over  one  hundred  dollars.  I  have  gone  into  such 
details  that  you  may  understand  the  downs  and  ups 
of  farming  in  those  times  and  also  to  show  how  I 
was  getting  some  more  education  in  practical 
agriculture. 

Nor  is  farming  less  uncertain  at  the  present 
time.  At  this  writing  in  January,  1910,  un- 
bleached Sultana  raisins  are  nominally  quoted  at 
two  and  one-half  cents  per  pound  —  the  fact  is,  no 
bids  can  be  obtained  for  them  at  any  price.  Two 
years  ago  this  same  class  of  raisins  sold  readily,  de- 
livered at  the  station,  at  seven  to  nine  cents  per 
pound.  So  does  he  who  farms  go  merrily  both  up 
hill  and  down ;  so  fluctuates  the  farmer's  business ; 
but  he  always  quotes  the  big  returns,  not  having 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     147 

become  wise  enough  yet  to  figure  in  the  lean  years 
with  the  fat  ones. 

Having  briefly  outlined  how  we  lived,  what  we 
ate,  what  we  produced  and  the  prices  we  received 
for  staple  farm  crops,  I  may  return  to  more  inti- 
mate, matters.  Spurred  on  by  adversity  and  pros- 
perity, at  last  I  began  to  think  seriously  and  to 
a  purpose.  I  was  no  longer  looking  over  my 
shoulder  to  see  if  the  county  house  was  in  sight  but, 
western-fashion,  was  trying  to  purchase  an  ad- 
joining farm.  I  was  now  bent  upon  the  production 
of  livestock  on  a  large  scale.  I  thought  to  pack 
most  of  the  farm  products  inside  the  skins  of  well- 
bred  animals  for  more  could  be  realized  in  that 
way  at  that  time  than  by  selling  crude  products. 
When  the  scheme  to  buy  land  came  to  naught,  I 
planned  to  build  a  barn.  I  had  so  far  made  shift 
with  enclosed  sheds  made  of  poles,  slabs,  brush  and 
straw,  which  served  well  enough  in  dry  weather 
but  were  far  from  sufficient  in  rainy  weather.  The 
new  barn  had  a  stone  basement  surmounted  by 
twenty  foot  posts  and  was  a  veritable  wonder  for 
the  time  and  locality. 

I  remember  distinctly  digging  a  ditch  one  day 
in  hard  ground,  after  I  had  begun  to  think  just  a 
little.  Sitting  on  its  rim  mopping  the  perspiration 


148  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

from  my  face  while  resting  my  aching  back, 
thoughts  something  like  these  came  to  me :  "  Rob- 
erts, you  are  in  the  right  place  for  you  have  not 
yet  skill  nor  money  to  enter  into  a  wider  life;  but 
someday  you  will  climb  out  of  this  ditch  and  stay 
out,  and  leave  digging  for  some  other  young  fellow 
to  learn  what  a  day's  manual  labor  really  means. 
He  who  would  intelligently  direct  must  first  have 
learned  how  to  serve." 

I  had  begun  to  feel  that  somehow  I  must  get 
clear  of  this  exacting  muscular  labor,  but  eighty 
acres  of  arable  land  could  not  be  made  to  support 
a  mere  planner  and  pay  laborers  at  the  same  time 
to  do  the  heavy  work.  The  farm  was  like  the 
turkey  of  the  man  from  Missouri  —  too  large  for 
one  and  not  quite  enough  for  two.  Animal  in- 
dustry, I  knew  by  experience,  was  profitable  and  it 
was  beginning  to  dawn  on  my  awakening  mind, 
that  through  livestock,  the  productivity  of  the  land 
could  be  maintained,  even  increased,  and  a  good 
profit  secured.  In  this  I  saw  a  surcease  from  too 
exacting  toil  and  a  possibility  of  making  myself 
worthy  to  be  the  representative  of  my  neighbors 
in  some  honorable  position  at  the  State  Capitol. 
I  wonder  how  many  other  ambitious  young  men 
have  caught  that  political  bee  in  their  bonnets,  who 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     149 

never  arrived  at  the  Capitol!  Although  most  of 
these  dreams  came  to  nothing  they  helped  to  rest 
my  back,  to  broaden  my  vision  and  to  improve 
my  judgment. 

The  growth  of  my  religious  life  deserves  to  be 
recorded.  During  my  first  year's  residence  in 
Iowa  I  became  greatly  interested  in  the  study  of 
the  Bible.  Instead  of  going  to  church  I  spent  my 
Sundays  in  an  honest  endeavor  to  comprehend 
some  of  the  vital  truths  which  that  Book  of  Books 
contains.  I  soon  discovered  that  many  things 
therein  were  u  too  great  for  me."  But  I  did  not 
allow  these  to  becloud  the  perfect  and  simple  rules 
of  life  I  found  there,  although  they  were  some- 
times clothed  in  Oriental  imagery.  After  I  had 
studied  for  about  a  year  I  concluded  that  my 
studies  could  be  greatly  advanced  by  joining  some 
organization;  and  looking  into  the  matter  care- 
fully, I  concluded  that  I  could  work  with  the  Bap- 
tists most  cordially  and  so  became  a  member  of 
that  church. 

The  Bible  study  not  only  interested  me  but  pro- 
foundly stimulated  my  intellectual  life.  When  we 
moved  to  the  farm  six  miles  away  from  Mount 
Pleasant,  it  was  inconvenient  to  attend  church  or 
other  assemblages  often,  but  the  Highland  school- 
house  was  only  a  mile  and  a  half  away  and  so  with 


150  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

a  few  neighbors,  a  farmers  club  was  organized 
which,  I  am  told,  is  still  an  active  society.  In  the 
spring  of  our  first  year  on  the  farm  a  Sunday 
school  was  started  in  the  same  schoolhouse  —  for 
the  benefit  of  the  children  it  was  proclaimed,  but 
I  am  persuaded  that  the  grown-ups  received  more 
benefit  than  the  children.  Having  been  elected 
superintendent,  I  was  stimulated  to  keep  myself 
well-versed  in  the  lessons.  When  fall  came  the 
question  of  adjournment  for  the  winter  was  raised, 
and  it  occurred  to  me  why  not  continue  through  the 
winter,  meeting  at  night  as  the  club  did.  The  sug- 
gestion found  favor  and  as  long  as  I  resided  in 
that  locality,  the  all-year-round  Sunday  school 
prospered. 

As  to  adult  membership,  the  club  and  the  Sun- 
day school  were  mostly  composed  of  the  same  per- 
sons and,  being  successful  in  two  undertakings,  we 
attempted  a  third.  The  County  Agricultural  Fair 
Association  had  died  of  anemia  some  time  before. 
We  set  about  resuscitating  it  for  we  believed  the 
country  was  now  sufficiently  settled  up  to  maintain 
it.  Here  was  my  first  effort  to  make  a  public  ad- 
dress. Although  the  printed  copy  of  it  is  now  lost, 
the  main  ideas  still  linger  in  my  memory.  One  of 
them  was :  "  Build  the  smokestacks  and  the  grain- 
stacks  in  sight  of  each  other !  "  The  idea  grew 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST    151 

out  of  the  fact  that  in  those  days  we  sent  nearly 
everything  we  produced  to  distant  markets  and  a 
large  proportion  of  our  necessary  supplies  came 
from  the  far  east  or  from  Europe.  Another  idea 
of  that  paper  was :  "  Improve  the  highways  by 
underground  drains  laid  with  hard-burned,  round 
drain  tiles."  The  summer  had  been  unusually  wet 
that  year  and  it  was  hard  for  us  to  get  to  town  and 
harder  for  us  to  stay  at  home.  Our  reapers  would 
sometimes  mire  down  in  the  grain  fields ;  and  often 
had  to  be  left  there  half-buried  for  want  of  ful- 
crums  on  which  to  place  levers.  Thus  much  of  the 
harvest  had  to  be  cut  with  grain  cradles  —  a  very 
laborious  proceeding. 

The  following  year  we  made  a  visit  to  my  old 
home  in  New  York  and  I  brought  back  with  me 
two  drain  tiles,  hoping  to  get  some  brick-maker 
interested  in  manufacturing  them.  It  is  probable 
that  these  were  the  first  drain  tiles  carried  beyond 
the  Mississippi  river.  Since  then,  in  many  places 
both  in  Iowa  and  Illinois,  the  public  highways  have 
been  underdrained  with  tile  to  carry  off  the  rain, 
for  water  is  a  greater  destroyer  of  dirt  roads  than 
all  other  enemies  combined. 

A  man  may  set  out  on  a  definite  track  but  he  sel- 
dom anticipates  the  switch  which  may  shunt  him 
off  onto  another  —  thus  it  has  been  with  me.  I 


152  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

never  got  started  on  a  fairly  straight  track  but  that 
I  was  sure  to  be  shunted  onto  another,  and  one 
which  was  apt  to  be  poorly  ballasted.  In  the  latter 
part  of  May,  1869,  as  I  was  giving  the  last  touch 
to  my  fine  new  barn  by  building  a  cupola  on  it  just 
for  looks,  I  heard  a  voice  at  the  top  of  the  ladder, 
and  turning,  I  saw  the  red  head  of  O.  H.  P. 
Buchanan  just  above  the  eaves.  Said  he :  "  Come 
down  from  there,  young  man,  I  have  better  work 
for  you  to  do." 

It  seemed  that  Mr.  Buchanan  had  shortly  before 
been  appointed  a  Trustee  of  the  Iowa  State  Col- 
lege of  Agriculture  and  Mechanic  Arts,  usually 
known  as  the  "  I.  A.  C.,"  which  was  situated  at 
Ames,  Story  County,  Iowa.  The  Superintendent 
of  the  College  Farm  and  the  Secretary  of  the 
Board  of  Trustees  was  a  high-tempered  Scotch- 
man who  had  a  habit  of  resigning  on  the  slightest 
pretext.  The  patience  of  the  Trustees  had  at  last 
given  out  and  they  were  looking  for  someone  to 
take  Superintendent  Thompson's  place.  Mr. 
Buchanan  wished  to  recommend  me  for  the  posi- 
tion; but  at  first  I  declined  to  be  switched  off  onto 
this  new,  unknown  track  for  I  still  had  the  live- 
stock tick  in  my  bonnet.  Though  I  finally  con- 
sented to  allow  him  to  present  my  name,  I  declined 
to  furnish  him  with  any  commendatory  letters. 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST    153 

When  the  matter  came  up  before  the  Board 
there  were  many  applicants  and  I  have  been  told 
that  I  was  elected  in  the  following  manner :  One 
of  the  Trustees,  a  physician,  noted  among  other 
things  for  his  strong  language,  remarked:  "  That 
pile  of  recommendations  isn't  worth  a  damn  —  I 
can  get  twice  as  many  certifying  that  I  am  a  good 
Methodist  minister.  Buchanan,  do  you  know  this 
man  Roberts  and  what  stuff  he  is  made  of?  "  Re- 
ceiving a  satisfactory  answer  from  Mr.  Buchanan, 
the  Board  unanimously  elected  me  to  the  position. 

To  my  great  surprise  I  was  asked  to  take  charge 
at  once,  and  that  of  necessity  left  Mrs.  Roberts  — 
with  the  help  of  a  hired  lad  and  a  neighbor  —  to 
get  in  the  harvest  on  the  home  farm.  And  so,  as 
it  turned  out,  I  never  pitched  a  load  of  hay  with  my 
fine  new  horse-fork  nor  did  an  hour's  work  in  the 
New  Barn,  which  was  great  enough  in  my  estima- 
tion to  be  spelled  with  capitals. 

Leaving  home  at  once,  I  arrived  at  the  College 
in  June,  gathered  the  harvest  there  and  then,  re- 
turning to  my  own  farm,  threshed  and  marketed 
the  grain,  stored  the  household  goods  in  the  upper 
rooms  and  found  a  tenant.  With  homesick  hearts 
and  with  every  expectation  of  returning  in  a  year 
or  two,  we  with  our  two  children  left  the  home 


154  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

where  we  had  suffered  much  hardship  and  done 
much  heavy  labor  but  where  we  had  also  planned 
and  saved  and  been  happy  —  where  our  first  son, 
Perry  Buchanan  Roberts,  was  born  and  where  1 
had  received  the  foundation  of  my  agricultural 
education.  Little  as  we  imagined  it  then  we  were 
never  to  return  to  live  in  that  humble  house  which 
we  had  loved  so  much. 

We  arrived  at  the  College  in  August,  1869,  and 
took  possession  of  a  large,  two-story  brick  farm- 
house. We  were  expected  to  board  and  often  to 
lodge  from  six  to  eight  workmen,  the  Trustees 
when  the  Board  was  in  session,  the  Professors  who 
were  not  yet  provided  with  dwellings,  and  the 
indoor  employes  —  a  mixed  company  sometimes 
amounting  to  thirty  persons.  As  Secretary  of  the 
Board  of  Trustees,  I  was  an  employe  of  the  State 
—  the  Commonwealth's  watch  dog;  as  Superin- 
tendent I  managed  the  farm.  The  salary  of  the 
former  was  one  thousand,  of  the  latter  seven  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars  per  year  with  board,  rooms, 
heat,  light  and  washing  for  myself  and  family  in- 
cluded. Mrs.  Roberts  superintended  the  farm 
household,  her  salary  being  included  in  the  above. 
On  the  whole  the  salaries  were  liberal  considering 
the  newness  of  the  College  and  the  country. 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST    155 

I  remember  that  the  kitchen  door,  which  faced 
on  what  was  then  the  main  drive,  opened  on  the 
very  line  of  the  road.  The  wood  for  the  stoves 
had  been  deposited  in  saw-log  lengths  at  the 
kitchen  door  to  be  chopped  up  into  stove-lengths. 
There,  cutting  stove-wood,  I  first  saw  Mr.  W.  T. 
Hornaday,  who  is  now  the  Curator  of  the  Bronx 
Park  Museum  and  Director  of  the  New  York 
Zoological  Gardens.  I  little  thought  then  that 
that  stubby,  bronzed  lad  at  the  wood-pile  would 
ever  attain  so  useful  and  distinguished  a  position 
as  he  now  occupies. 

All  college  students  were  then  required  to  work 
two  and  one-half  hours  daily,  being  paid  an  aver- 
age wage  of  about  eight  cents  an  hour.  From 
forty  to  fifty  were  detailed  each  morning  to  the 
farm.  Having  more  hands  than  I  could  easily  find 
work  for,  I  decided  to  clear  up  the  campus,  which 
consisted  of  about  ninety  acres.  The  heterogene- 
ous rubbish  due  to  many  changes  and  much  build- 
ing was  gathered  in  wagon  loads,  sorted  and  piled 
up.  The  knotty  logs  at  the  kitchen  door  were 
moved  from  their  ancient  resting-place  and  added 
to  the  useless  scrap  pile ;  and  the  vast  accumulation 
of  chip  manure  was  hauled  away,  which  widened 
the  drive-way  from  about  twelve  to  its  original 


156  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

forty  feet.  When  the  scrap  pile  was  burning  one 
evening,  the  President  came  rushing  over,  fearing 
that  a  building  was  on  fire,  but  seeing  what  it  was, 
he  remarked :  "  Mr.  Superintendent  are  you  not 
burning  up  some  things  of  value  ?  "  I  was,  prob- 
ably, but  I  was  determined  to  fix  that  old  rubbish 
so  that  it  could  not  be  used  again  to  clutter  up  the 
campus. 

That  part  of  the  farm  which  lay  between  the 
buildings  and  the  village  of  Ames,  about  two  miles 
away,  was  low  land  and  subject  to  overflow  in  the 
spring  for  short  periods,  from  a  crooked,  sluggish 
stream.  Weeds,  from  four  to  eight  feet  tall, 
covered  the  face  of  this  wild,  hummocky  pasture, 
which  was  only  sparsely  set  with  coarse  grasses. 
In  this  pasture  several  fine  full-blooded  animals 
which  had  been  purchased  at  long  figures  in  Il- 
linois, New  York  and  Canada,  were  kept  with 
other  cattle;  but  no  one  could  have  told  whether 
the  cattle  were  scrubs  or  Duchesses  and  Dukes, 
because  of  the  weeds.  As  this  land  abutted  the 
causeway  across  the  lowland  over  which  the  main 
road  approached  the  college,  it  was  a  great  eye- 
sore and  gave  a  bad  impression  of  our  farming 
methods;  so  I  sent  a  sturdy  Norwegian,  with  a 
team  of  mules  hitched  to  an  old  mower,  to  mow  it. 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST       157 

Sometimes  Lars  rode  and  sometimes  he  didn't  but 
when  that  field  was  mowed  I  paid  my  respects  to 
him  and  the  mules.  Warm  rains  in  September 
caused  the  grass,  which  had  not  seen  clear  daylight 
for  years,  to  spring  up  and  grow  lusciously;  and 
when  the  Board  of  Trustees  travelled  over  it  in 
coming  from  the  station  to  the  College,  they  could 
not  help  observing  with  approval  the  change  from 
an  unkept,  weedy  lowland,  to  a  green  pasture 
dotted  with  fine  Shorthorn,  Devon  and  Ayrshire 
cattle. 

I  might  as  well  finish  the  history  of  that  low-land 
field  just  here,  although  it  will  take  me  into  the 
second  and  third  years  of  my  stay  at  the  I.  A.  C. 
The  next  spring  it  was  plowed  for  the  first  time. 
The  accepted  method  of  subduing  wild  prairie  land 
was  then  to  use  a  "  breaker  " ;  but  the  plow  we 
used  was  not  a  breaker  and  hence  would  not  kink 
the  furrows  so  that  the  wild  grass  would  "  burn 
out,"  that  is,  perish  for  want  of  moisture  during 
the  summer.  Our  plow  laid  the  furrows  flat  and 
unless  something  more  was  done  the  last  state  of 
that  field  might  be  worse  than  the  first.  The 
students,  with  axes  in  hand,  followed  down  every 
fourth  furrow-slice  and  at  intervals  of  about  four 
feet  cut  a  slit  in  the  sod,  dropped  some  grains  of 


158  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

corn  and  then  cut  another  slit  by  the  side  of  the 
first  one  which  served  to  close  the  first  one  and  to 
cover  the  corn.  Before  and  after  the  seed  was 
planted  the  ground  was  harrowed  and  re-harrowed 
again  and  again  but  with  little  apparent  effect  — 
the  sod  was  too  tenacious.  But  I  have  yet  to  see 
more  roughage  —  along  with  a  few  ears  —  grown 
per  acre  than  grew  on  that  marshy  field,  and  it  was 
just  what  was  needed  for  our  many  cattle  after  the 
prairie  grasses  had  dried  up  in  the  fall. 

Mrs.  Ellen  Tupper,  the  College  lecturer  on  Bee 
Culture,  highly  recommended  Alsike  or  Swedish 
clover,  not  only  as  a  superb  honey  plant  but  as  a 
good  forage  plant,  for  low  land.  The  flowers  of 
Alsike,  like  those  of  white  clover,  are  so  shallow 
that  honey  bees  can  secure  their  sweets,  while  red 
clover  flowers  are  so  deep  that  only  bumblebees 
can  reach  the  honey  they  contain.  This  tough 
ground  was  therefore  re-plowed  the  following 
spring  and  two  bushels  of  imported  Alsike  clover 
seed  —  no  seed  could  then  be  obtained  in  the 
United  States  —  at  a  cost  of  thirty  dollars  per 
bushel  was  sowed.  I  have  no  words  to  describe 
the  beauty  and  the  perfume  of  that  field  of  clover; 
I  have  never  since  raised  so  good  a  crop  of  clover 
of  any  kind.  But  I  take  little  credit  for  it,  for  it 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     159 

was  just  one  of  those  fortunate  little  things  which 
come  to  us  sometimes  from  following  a  friendly 
suggestion. 

My  purpose  in  relating  these  details  is  not  so 
much  to  adorn  my  tale  as  to  point  a  moral :  little 
duties  well  performed  often  lead  to  larger  things. 
For,  when  the  Board  of  Trustees  convened  in  the 
late  fall  of  1869,  the  first  resolution  they  passed 
made  me  Professor  of  Agriculture.  That  widened 
road  where  the  log  pile  had  been,  that  burned 
rubbish  from  the  campus  and  that  beautiful  green 
lowland  pasture  had  won  their  confidence.  I  was 
certainly  most  fortunate;  here  was  the  livestock 
farm  which  I  had  longed  for  so  many  years  and 
a  great  farm  it  was,  although  much  of  it  was  still 
in  virgin  prairie.  There  was  on  the  place  about  a 
hundred  head  of  cattle ;  two  small  flocks  of  sheep, 
one  long-wooled  and  one  selected  fine-wooled;  the 
possibilities  of  rearing  a  hundred  Berkshire  pigs 
yearly;  and  six  hundred  acres  of  prairie  and  wood- 
land, to  which  was  added  later  two  hundred  acres 
more.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  I.  A.  C.  started  out 
on  purely  agricultural  lines  and  it  is  because  it  has 
adhered  rather  closely  to  them  that  it  has  risen  to 
first  rank  among  those  of  its  kind. 

While  enjoying  the  practical  work  of  the  farm  I 
found  here  another  opportunity  for  self-education. 


160  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

The  lecturer  on  agriculture,  Dr.  Townsend,  had 
gone  to  the  State  University  of  Ohio  where  he  did 
valuable  work.  He  was  a  man  of  unusual  ability 
and  his  scope  of  knowledge  was  wide  and  in  some 
lines  profound.  As  there  were  few  trained  men 
in  agriculture  at  that  time,  his  position  was  not 
easy  to  fill.  One  day  President  Welch  asked  me 
why  I  could  not  teach  agriculture;  I  replied  be- 
cause I  did  not  know  how.  "  But,"  said  he, 
"  Can't  you  tell  the  boys  how  you  have  been  doing 
things  —  I  understand  you  have  long  been  a  suc- 
cessful school  teacher."  The  President  carried  out 
his  suggestion,  as  he  usually  did,  and  I  began  to 
tell  the  students  what  I  knew  about  farming.  It 
did  not  take  me  long  to  run  short  of  material  and 
then  I  began  to  consult  the  library.  I  might  as 
well  have  looked  for  cranberries  on  the  Rocky 
Mountains  as  for  material  for  teaching  agricul- 
ture in  that  library. 

Thus,  fortunately,  I  was  driven  to  take  the  class 
to  the  field  and  farm,  there  to  study  plants,  animals 
and  tillage  at  first  hand.  So  again  I  was  shunted 
onto  the  right  track  by  sheer  necessity  and  ever 
since  I  have  kept  the  rails  hot  on  that  particular 
spur.  Much  of  the  illustrative  material  necessary 
for  agricultural  teaching  cannot  be  assembled  in 
the  class  room  and  so  I  fell  into  the  habit  of  taking 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     161 

the  students  to  view  good  and  poor  farms;  to  see 
fine  herds  and  scrub  herds  in  the  country  round- 
about, even  though  they  sometimes  had  to  travel 
on  freight  cars.  I  suppose  I  was  the  first  teacher 
of  agriculture  to  make  use,  in  a  large  way,  of  the 
fields  and  the  stables  of  the  countryside  as  labora- 
tories. I  simply  found  myself  in  the  position  of 
the  boy  and  the  woodchuck  when  a  visit  from  the 
minister  was  expected  —  it  was  a  ground-hog  case. 
One  day,  being  short  of  lecture  material,  I  went 
to  the  fields  and  gathered  a  great  armful  of  the 
common  weed  pests.  Handing  them  round  to  the 
class  I  asked  for  the  common  and  the  botanical 
names,  and  the  methods  of  eradication — I  received 
only  two  answers  and  those  quite  inadequate  — 
although  these  twenty-five  young  men  had  spent 
most  of  their  waking  hours  since  childhood  in 
fields  where  there  were  more  weeds  than  useful 
plants.  This  experiment  provided  material  for  a 
week's  classroom  talk  and  led  me  to  place  still  more 
emphasis  on  field  laboratory  work  —  "  walks  and 
talks  " —  we  called  them.  When  the  subject  of  the 
horse  —  breeding,  age,  care  and  management  — 
came  up,  I  went  again  to  the  library  for  help.  But 
the  horse  books  were  all  out  of  date,  chiefly  filled 
with  information  about  hunters,  jumpers,  and 
6 


1 62  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

racers  and  their  wonderful  feats,  and  a  little  about 
the  European  draft  breeds  which  were  then  in  pro- 
cess of  formation.  Although  I  found  in  them 
much  "  horsey "  talk  and  brag,  I  found  almost 
nothing  that  would  be  of  use  to  an  American 
farmer. 

Here  was  a  great  opening  for  original  work. 
It  appeared  to  me  that  farmers  should  know  how 
to  tell  the  age  of  a  horse  with  a  reasonable  degree 
of  certainty;  and  hearing  that  many  rather  young 
horses  had  recently  died  of  an  epidemic  in  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood,  I  had  two  farm  hands  dig 
them  up  and  preserved  the  heads  and  some  special 
parts  and  such  limbs  as  had  been  malformed  by 
disease.  By  careful  inquiry  I  was  able  to  fix  ac- 
curately the  ages  of  most  of  these  animals.  Ar- 
ranging my  material  on  a  workbench  in  the  open, 
I  placed  the  class  on  the  windward  side  and  taught 
them  the  fundamental  principles  of  horse  denti- 
tion. I  have  found  it  difficult  to  give  students  a 
WORKING  knowledge  of  this  subject  and  so  have 
given  great  attention  to  it  in  my  book  on  The 
Horse. 

These  few  illustrations  will  serve  to  show  how 
difficult  it  was  in  those  early  days  to  teach  agricul- 
ture and  to  find  proper  illustrative  material.  There 
was  no  well-worn  trail  to  follow  as  there  is  now, 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST    163 

and  though  the  work  might  have  been  criticised, 
happily  for  me  there  was  no  one  then  fitted  for  the 
task.  Of  the  subject  of  teaching  in  general  I  will 
speak  later;  of  my  own  teaching,  looking  at  it 
from  this  distance,  it  may  fairly  be  said  that  it  was 
practical  and  thorough  as  far  as  it  went,  but 
stopped  far  short  of  what  is  given  in  similar 
courses  today.  It  served,  however,  to  blaze  the 
way  for  those  who  followed. 

About  forty  rods  from  the  farm  house  stood 
"  The  College,"  as  it  was  then  designated.  It 
was  a  large  brick  building  with  two  long  wings 
and  the  only  college  building  when  I  first  arrived. 
In  the  basement  of  one  wing  was  a  large  dining 
hall  and  the  kitchen;  on  the  first  floor  the  chapel 
and  the  administrative  offices;  while  the  third  and 
fourth  floor  were  occupied  by  students.  In  the 
other  wing  was  housed  the  library  and  the  museum, 
and  the  upper  two  stories,  as  in  the  other  wing, 
were  .given  up  to  students.  The  women  students, 
who  were  admitted  from  the  beginning,  roomed 
in  one  end  of  the  main  building  on  the  lower  floors. 
There  were  between  three  and  four  hundred 
students. 

This  was  a  diverse  crowd  to  feed,  govern  and 
keep  at  work.  After  trying  a  few  experiments  the 


1 64  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

general  government  of  the  students  was  put  in  the 
hands  of  a  judiciary  committee  composed  of  the 
President  and  four  members  of  the  faculty.  All 
major  infractions  of  rules  were  tried  before  this 
body;  and  their  findings  were  read  before  the  full 
faculty  at  stated  periods ;  but  all  minor  affairs  -^- 
infractions  of  the  ordinary  rules  of  conduct  in  the 
classroom  and  in  and  about  the  campus,  were  tried 
before  a  student  council  composed  of  upper  class 
men  and  class  women.  The  person  to  be  tried  had 
the  right  to  select  one  of  his  fellow  pupils  to  assist 
him  in  defense,  while  one  of  the  council  acted  in 
the  capacity  of  attorney  for  the  College.  Only 
once  during  my  knowledge  of  it,  did  the  decisions 
of  the  student  council  fail  to  be  approved  by  the 
faculty. 

After  seeing  many  experiments  in  student  gov- 
ernment; and  after  sitting  in  a  faculty  of  more 
than  fifty  members  for  hours  to  try  a  single  stu- 
dent for  some  petty  infraction  which  often  in- 
volved no  turpitude  but  only  thoughtlessness,  I 
am  convinced  that  this  method  was  the  most  just, 
expedient  and  satisfactory  of  any  I  am  acquainted 
with.  General  Geddes  who  was  military  com- 
mandant and  steward,  and  in  charge  of  order 
within  the  building,  was  an  able,  kind  but  very 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST    165 

exacting  officer.  The  success  of  his  administra- 
tion was  due  in  part  to  wide  experience  and  in  part 
to  its  military  character,  with  the  uniforms  and 
the  red  tape  left  out. 

Professor  C.  E.  Bessey  (now  of  the  University 
of  Nebraska)  was  often  "officer  of  the  day,"  or 
rather  during  study  hours  from  8  to  10  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  and  made  the  night  and  morning  in- 
spections. The  rising  bell  rang  at  5.30  a.  m. ; 
breakfast  was  at  6  and  inspection  at  6.45  when 
students'  rooms  had  to  be  in  order  or  there  was 
prompt  reckoning.  All  unexcused  students  re- 
ported for  work  at  7  a.  m.  The  officers  of  the 
day  as  well  as  others  were  obliged  to  make  a  daily 
written  report  to  the  President.  The  students  were 
required  and  the  faculty  requested  to  meet  at  4.30 
p.  m.  in  the  Chapel  where  a  short  reading  from 
the  scriptures  and  prayer  was  followed  by  direc- 
tions for  the  next  day's  work  and  by  various  no- 
tices. From  5  to  8  o'clock  was  given  to  supper  and 
recreation.  On  Saturdays  no  duties  except  special 
details  were  required;  on  Sunday  attendance  at  the 
morning  service  was  treated  the  same  as  a  class 
exercise.  Strange  as  it  may  now  seem,  all  of  these 
religious  exercises  were  attended  with  apparent 
pleasure,  perhaps  because  the  students  were  al- 
lowed to  remain  afterward  for  a  quiet  social  hour. 


1 66  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

The  boys  and  girls  were  not  allowed  to  mingle 
freely  except  during  recreation  hours  and  after 
Sunday  chapel;  and  no  scandal  and  few  breaches 
of  social  discipline  occurred  during  the  four  years 
of  my  stay. 

President  A.  S.  Welch  was  a  keen,  cultivated 
gentleman,  of  very  pleasant  manners,  patient 
under  defeat  and  usually  able  to  turn  defeat  into 
victory.  That  he  successfully  built  an  excellent 
college  out  on  the  lonely,  wind-swept  prairies  by 
the  track  of  an  uncompleted  railway,  marks  him  as 
a  great  organizer.  That  he  was  able  to  govern  and 
mould  that  mass  of  crude  boys  and  girls  and  inex- 
perienced professors  —  picked  up  at  first  almost 
at  random,  as  they  had  to  be  —  into  an  efficient 
educational  institution,  proves  him  a  man  of  rare 
executive  ability.  Had  his  lot  been  cast  in  a  larger 
field  and  in  a  later  time,  President  Welch  would 
have  been  accounted  by  posterity  one  of  the  great 
college  presidents  of  America. 

President  Welch  organized  and  conducted  the 
first  Farmers'  Institutes  in  the  United  States.  As- 
sociated with  him  was  Mrs.  Ellen  Tupper  — "The 
Bee  Woman  "  —  Professors  Jones,  Mathews, 
Bessey  and  Roberts,  and  our  experiences  were 
those  of  pioneers.  On  one  occasion  after  an  even- 
ing meeting  at  Council  Bluffs,  Iowa,  the  President 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST    167 

and  I  were  invited  to  go  home  with  a  farmer  who 
lived  five  miles  distant.  About  midnight  we  re- 
tired to  a  room  on  the  walls  of  which  you  might 
have  written  your  name  in  the  glittering  frost.  I 
slept  with  the  President  and  when  we  touched  the 
icy  sheets,  he  remarked:  "Roberts,  I  guess  we 
will  have  to  spoon  "  —  and  we  spooned. 

I  have  often  wondered  since  then  why  this  large 
family  of  faculty  and  students,  housed  mostly  in 
one  building,  got  on  so  well  together.  Was  it 
because  the  nearest  town  was  small  and  had  no 
saloons?  Or  because  the  boys  had  not  yet  con- 
ceived the  idea  that  colleges  are  chiefly  to  promote 
athletics  and  nocturnal  episodes?  Or  because  the 
system  was  exceptionally  good;  or  because  of  the 
exceptional  ability  of  its  chief  executive  officers — * 
or  perhaps  because  of  all  these  combined?  One 
thing  is  certain :  the  President  did  not  go  fishing  in 
term-time  nor  up  and  down  the  country  hunting 
honors  and  notoriety.  With  few  exceptions  the 
faculty  was  composed  of  young,  able,  progressive, 
industrious  teachers;  and  with  a  president  at  the 
head  who  always  knew  what  was  going  on,  and 
who  not  only  had  the  courage  to  point  out  defects 
but  the  wisdom  to  see  and  appreciate  good  work 
and  the  sense  to  praise  it;  the  instruction  was  of  a 


1 68  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

high  grade.  It  was,  perhaps,  the  best  that  could 
be  obtained  at  that  time  and  under  the  conditions 
which  then  prevailed. 

The  requirements  for  admission  were  neces- 
sarily low  and  much  preparatory  instruction  had 
to  be  given;  but  when  once  prepared,  I  have  yet 
to  find  pupils  who  made  such  rapid  advancement 
as  did  those  eager,  unspoiled  students  from  the 
prairie  farms.  Later  on  many  of  the  students  who 
came  to  us  were  fitted  for  entrance  by  our  own 
upper  classmen  and  were  therefore  superior  to 
those  who  had  been  confused  by  a  multitude  of 
subjects  badly  taught. 

The  college  year  began  the  last  of  February 
and  closed  the  end  of  the  following  October  with 
only  a  few  days  vacation  in  July.  There  were  two 
reasons  for  placing  the  long  vacation  in  the  winter ; 
first,  the  method  of  warming  the  College  building 
by  the  Routan  system  was  an  expensive  failure; 
and  second,  the  winter  vacation  gave  an  oppor- 
tunity for  all  qualified  students  to  teach  in  the 
public  schools  where  they  were  much  in  demand. 
This  arrangement  proved  advantageous  in  many 
ways.  The  secondary  schools  were  benefited;  at- 
tention was  drawn  to  the  College;  prospective 
pupils  received  a  better  preparation  along  the 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST     169 

lines  required  for  entrance  to  college;  and  the 
student  teachers  acquired  experience  and  secured 
funds  to  pay  their  expenses. 

I  wish  that  the  methods  of  instruction,  practice 
and  government  which  prevailed  in  my  time  at  the 
I.  A.  C.  could  be  written  down  in  detail  and  sent 
out  for  the  use  of  the  farm  schools  which  are  now 
springing  up ;  which  of  necessity  will  be  conducted 
under  similar  conditions  and  will  receive  pupils 
not  unlike  those  that  attended  the  Iowa  College 
in  the  beginning.  They  should  be  fundamentally 
correct  when  applied  to  institutions  of  a  similar 
character. 

In  the  third  year  of  my  stay  at  Ames,  internal 
troubles  began  —  discord  between  the  Trustees 
and  some  members  of  the  faculty.  William  A. 
Anthony,  the  Professor  of  Physics,  had  made  ar- 
rangements to  go  east  and  study  during  the  winter 
vacation ;  but  the  Trustees  required  him  to  remain 
at  the  College  to  attend  to  the  plumbing  of  some 
of  the  new  buildings  under  construction.  This 
meant  his  doing  a  large  part  of  the  work  with  his 
own  hands  for  skilled  workmen  could  seldom  be 
had  in  this  locality.  He  obeyed  at  this  time  but 
it  was  the  straw  which  caused  this  man  of  excep- 
tionally diversified  and  eminent  qualifications  to 


170  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

accept  another  position  soon  afterward  at  Cornell 
University. 

Shortly  after  this  there  arose  other  troubles  of 
a  more  serious  nature.  The  State  had  made  a 
liberal  appropriation  for  a  Chemical  building  and 
about  the  time  the  foundations  for  it  were  in  place, 
it  was  discovered  that  the  College  Treasurer,  who 
was  also  State  Treasurer,  had  defaulted  for  a 
large  sum  —  and  the  building  was  stopped.  He 
was  not  under  bonds  —  this  formality  having  been 
overlooked  —  and  recriminations  arose  in  the  ef- 
fort to  fix  and  shift  the  responsibility  for  the  mis- 
take. Several  members  of  the  faculty  arrayed 
themselves  against  the  President,  charging  him 
with  dereliction  in  certain  matters  and  with  per- 
forming unauthorized  acts  in  the  general  manage- 
ment of  the  College.  In  other  words,  a  few  pro- 
fessors tried  to  unseat  the  President  but  were  them- 
selves unseated  finally  at  a  special  meeting  of  the 
Board  of  Trustees.  Most  of  the  members  of  the 
State  Assembly,  and  virtually  every  newspaper  in 
the  State,  took  an  active  interest  on  one  side  or  the 
other  of  this  controversy.  I  have  seldom  wit- 
nessed so  bitter  a  fight  and  it  was  very  difficult  for 
me  to  keep  out  of  it. 

In  1873  mY  eYes  began  to  fail  from  over-work 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST    171 

and  especially  from  over-study  at  night ;  and,  hav- 
ing a  horror  of  being  mixed  up  in  a  factional  fight 
and  Mrs.  Roberts'  duties  at  the  farm  house  having 
become  too  burdensome,  I  handed  in  my  resigna- 
tion. Professor  Anthony  was  by  this  time  at  Cor- 
nell University.  He  had  kept  himself  well  in- 
formed as  to  the  trouble  at  the  I.  A.  C.  and  knew 
long  before  I  resigned  that  I  was  far  from  being 
satisfied  with  the  outlook  for  the  future. 

As  I  remember,  it  was  in  October,  1873,  that  I 
received  a  letter  from  him  asking  if  I  would  con- 
sider favorably  a  call  to  Cornell  University.  I 
replied  that  I  was  tired  out  with  over-work  and 
wrangling,  and  was  only  waiting  for  a  suitable 
time  to  go  back  to  my  farm.  In  answer  to  this  he 
wrote  asking  me  to  formulate  a  plan  for  the  or- 
ganization of  the  College  of  Agriculture  at  Cor- 
nell which  he  might  show  to  President  Andrew 
D.  White.  I  forwarded  a  somewhat  lengthy  state- 
ment and  about  two  weeks  after  this,  Vice-Presi- 
dent  Russell  of  Cornell  came  to  the  College  at 
Ames  prepared  to  discuss  these  plans  and  to  offer 
me  a  position  as  Superintendent  of  the  University 
farm  and  Assistant  Professor  of  Agriculture. 

At  that  time  the  Cornell  year  was  divided  into 
three  terms,  running  from  September  to  June.  I 
declined  to  consider  a  plan  by  which  I  should  have 


172  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

no  vacation,  unless  the  salary  was  increased.  I 
also  declined  to  take  my  vacation  in  mid-summer, 
since  I  was  certain  that  the  farm  could  not  be  suc- 
cessfully carried  on  if  I  should  spend  the  three 
busiest  months  away  from  the  University.  It 
was  agreed  finally  —  in  case  I  should  be  appointed 
—  that  I  might  take  a  vacation  of  three  months  in 
winter  and  lecture  only  in  the  fall  and  spring  terms. 

When  the  fall  meeting  of  the  Board  of  Trustees 
was  held  at  the  I.  A.  C.,  in  November,  1873,  I 
had  not  yet  heard  anything  from  Cornell  and  as 
my  resignation  was  in  President  Welch's  hands, 
and  his  also  in  the  Trustees'  hands,  I  was  planning 
to  return  to  my  farm  at  Mount  Pleasant.  At  the 
first  session  of  the  Board  a  resolution  was  passed 
vacating  all  positions  in  the  college.  Re-convening 
after  dinner  in  a  more  reasonable  frame  of  mind, 
the  Board  proceeded  to  the  election  of  a  President, 
a  faculty  and  other  officers.  President  Welch  and 
all  of  his  co-workers  except  three  full  professors, 
were  re-elected  to  the  positions  which  they  had 
previously  filled.  Thus  I  was  on  in  the  morning, 
off  at  noon,  and  on  again  by  evening. 

I  again  offered  my  resignation  to  take  effect  in 
January,  1874,  and  it  was  accepted.  A  few  days 
later  while  the  Board  of  Trustees  was  still  in 


EARLY  MANHOOD  IN  THE  MIDDLE  WEST    173 

session,  I  received  a  telegram  informing  me  of  my 
appointment  to  the  position  of  Assistant  Professor 
of  Agriculture  at  Cornell  University  with  a  full 
professor's  salary  and  the  promise  that  no  full 
professor  should  be  placed  over  me.  I  showed 
the  message  to  my  old  friend,  Trustee  Buchanan, 
and  with  it  in  his  hand  he  preceded  me  to  the 
supper  table  and  introduced  me  to  the  Board  and 
the  company  as  the  Professor  of  Agriculture  at 
Cornell  University.  I  believe  that  was  one  of  the 
happiest  moments  of  his  life.  It  was  he  who  had 
secured  my  appointment  at  the  I.  A.  C.  when  I 
was  not  competent  to  fill  it  —  that  is,  he  had  taken 
me  on  trust  —  and  he  had  stood  by  me  and  seen 
me  grow.  Now  came  the  fulfilled  joy  of  having 
his  judgment  of  this  "  diamond  in  the  rough " 
justified. 

The  appointment  pleased  me,  as  it  might  any 
ambitious  young  man,  for  it  was  a  testimonial  to 
my  growth  and  ability,  and  yet  I  hesitated  to  ac- 
cept it.  I  was  in  a  discouraged  frame  of  mind 
partly  from  over-work  and  partly  from  a  lack  of 
appreciation  on  the  part  of  those  whom  my  work 
had  been  designed  to  benefit  as  well  as  by  an  in- 
creasing sense  of  the  difficulties  that  would  have  to 
be  met  at  Cornell.  I  had  begun  to  lose  faith  in  the 


174  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

college  method  of  raising  the  business  of  farming 
to  an  intelligent  and  dignified  calling.  But  fortu- 
nately, my  friend  Mr.  Buchanan  had  a  wider  view 
and  a  stronger  faith  than  I  in  the  new  agricultural 
education,  and  when  I  asked  his  advice  about  ac- 
cepting the  position  he  said:  "If  you  don't  ac- 
cept it  I'll  never  forgive  you  —  it's  the  great  op- 
portunity of  your  life  —  don't  hesitate  a  moment 
even  though  your  title  will  be  only  that  of  Assistant 
Professor.  If  you  can't  change  that  for  a  full 
professorship  very  soon  then  you  are  not  the  man 
I  think  you  are."  And  that's  the  way  I  came  to 
go  to  Cornell  —  as  I  supposed  perhaps  for  only  a 
year  or  two,  for  even  yet  I  dreamed  of  going  back 
to  my  own  farm  and  being  independent. 

Again  the  switch  had  been  turned  and  again  I 
had  been  shunted  on  to  another  road.  At  Ames 
I  had  enjoyed  the  farm  end  of  my  work  greatly, 
but  I  had  not  become  much  interested  in  purely 
educational  lines;  that  development  was  to  come 
later.  My  own  judgment  and  inclination  said,  go 
back  to  Mount  Pleasant;  but  my  trusted  friend 
said,  go  to  Cornell  —  it  is  an  opportunity  which 
comes  to  a  man  but  once  in  a  lifetime  —  you  can 
get  a  big  livestock  farm  anytime.  And  so  I  set 
out  not  knowing  whither  I  was  going. 


PROFESSOR  ROBERTS  AT  SEVENTY 
After  thirty  years  as  Dean  and  Director  at  Cornell. 


SECTION  III 
LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY 

(1874—1903 


LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY 

On  January  i,  1874,  we  left  Ames,  and  after 
attending  to  some  private  business  en  route, 
reached  Ithaca,  New  York,  on  February  first. 
There  we  secured  rooms  in  Cascadillay  a  dreary 
stone  building  which  had  been  erected  for  a  Sana- 
torium and  was  then  used  for  an  apartment  house ; 
and  set  up  housekeeping  for  the  fifth  time  and  only 
thirty  miles  from  the  old  homestead  on  Cayuga 
Lake  which  I  had  left  nearly  twenty  years  earlier. 
I  and  my  family  were  plain  people  off  the  western 
prairies ;  and  perhaps  because  of  it  and  more,  per- 
haps, because  agriculture  was  then  regarded  by 
most  of  the  classically  educated  members  of  the 
Cornell  faculty  as  quite  unworthy  of  a  place  in 
education  beside  the  traditional  subjects  of  the 
curriculum,  we  suffered  a  sort  of  social  neglect  and 
felt  ourselves  in  an  alien  atmosphere.  The  con- 
tempt for  such  practical  subjects  and  their  teachers 
was  shared  to  some  extent  for  a  number  of  years 
by  many  of  the  professors  of  technical  departments 
who  were  not  highly  cultivated  outside  their  own 
fields. 

[177] 


178  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

The  University  farm  was  under  a  lease  which 
did  not  expire  until  the  following  April  and  there 
was  very  little  teaching  to  be  done,  there  being 
only  three  senior  students  in  agriculture,  and  they 
having  already  taken  their  technical  training  under 
my  predecessor,  Professor  McCandless.  There 
were  two,  John  L.  Stone  and  William  R.  Lazenby 
—  both  of  whom  are  now  well-known  professors 
in  Agriculture,  the  one  at  Cornell  and  the  other  at 
Ohio  University  —  and  a  few  strays  to  whom  I 
gave  an  hour  of  instruction  per  day,  five  days  in 
the  week  for  the  rest  of  that  year.  This  left  me 
plenty  of  time  to  look  over  the  situation  and  to 
realize  how  different  our  conditions  were  to  be 
from  those  in  Iowa. 

From  an  ample  farmhouse  to  three  living  rooms 
in  Cascadilla  Place;  from  an  8oo-acre  farm,  where 
in  one  year  I  had  raised  5,000  bushels  of  corn, 
to  one  of  less  than  100  acres  of  arable  land; 
from  a  herd  of  100  cattle,  representing  four; 
breeds,  to  one  of  twelve  miserable  cows ;  from  set- 
ting fifty  to  seventy-five  students  at  work  every 
morning  to  directing  five  hired  men;  from  large 
classes  of  enthusiastic  pupils  and  ample  classrooms 
to  a  museum  for  a  lecture  room  and  a  pocket  edi- 
tion of  a  class  —  such  were  the  comparisons  that 
I  instinctively  made  in  those  first  months. 


LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY     179 

The  history  of  the  University  farm  and  the  at- 
tempts at  agricultural  education  were  even  more 
disheartening.  I  learned  that  the  farm  had  first 
been  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  Mr.  Spaulding,  a 
man  of  delicate  health  who  of  necessity  spent  most 
of  his  time  in  summer  at  some  health  resort;  the 
inevitable  result  was  neglect,  followed  by  weak 
apologies  for  its  unsightly  conditions.  In  the  hope 
of  bettering  matters,  the  farm  was  then  leased  to 
a  Cortland  farmer  who  moved  into  Cascadilla  — 
in  those  days  everybody  moved  into  '*  The 
Bastile  "  as  the  students  dubbed  it  —  and  he  was 
supposed  to  give  the  University  one-third  of  the 
proceeds  of  the  land. 

Meanwhile,  President  Andrew  D.  White,  while 
in  Europe,  had  selected  Professor  James  Law,  a 
young  Scotchman,  to  be  the  head  of  the  Veterinary 
Department  —  a  department  that  has  now  grown 
into  the  State  Veterinary  College  and  is  one  of  the 
best  of  its  kind  in  America.  About  1872  the 
President  also  called  an  Irishman,  a  Mr.  McCand- 
less  from  Glasnevin  to  the  Chair  of  Agriculture. 
Professor  McCandless  declined  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  the  farm  until  a  large  barn  had  been 
built  after  his  own  plans.  Ezra  Cornell  was  de- 
termined to  get  the  Department  of  Agriculture 


i8o  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

properly  started  and  himself  furnished  the  money 
to  build  it.  But  both  the  barn  and  the  foreign 
professor  were,  failures. 

The  barn  was  a  large,  expensive  structure,  two 
stories  and  basement,  located  on  a  slight  incline. 
The  second  story  or  top  of  the  barn  was  to  be 
entered  by  a  long,  steep  earth  causeway,  which 
would  require  at  least  a  thousand  yards  of  earth 
in  its  construction.  The  plan  was  to  use  one-horse 
Irish  carts  which  could  easily  be  turned  round  in- 
side the  barn  when  the  carts  were  unloaded.  I 
never  built  this  causeway,  but  I  completed  the  barn 
after  altering  it  in  some  important  particulars,  and 
it  never  ceased  to  be  a  monstrosity.  It  burned 
down  about  1 890  —  peace  be  to  its  ashes ! 

Mr.  McCandless  had  purchased  in  Ireland  sev- 
eral hundred  dollars  worth  of  farm  implements, 
which  I  am  quite  unable  to  describe,  so  queer  and 
clumsy  were  they,  and  which  were  quite  useless  in 
the  United  States.  The  greater  part  of  them  were 
burned  up  in  the  barn  and  those  that  escaped  were 
placed  among  the  other  antiquities. 

Of  Professor  McCandless  it  may  be  said,  how- 
ever, that  he  excelled  all  of  his  successors  in  good 
looks.  He  was  a  really  noble  looking  man,  soft- 
handed  and  always  perfectly  groomed.  He  only 


LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY     1 8 1 

stayed  at  Cornell  one  year  and  afterward  went  to 
Guelph,  Ontario,  Canada,  to  be  the  head  of  the 
Provincial  Agricultural  School.  About  two  years 
later  a  Government  Committee  investigated  this 
institution  and  he  was  dismissed. 

It  was  upon  the  heels  of  these  mistakes  and  after 
five  years  of  such  mismanagement  that  I  took 
charge  of  the  Cornell  farm  and  the  courses  in 
Agriculture.  Although  I  had  been  led  to  believe 
that  there  was  an  appropriation  of  $10,000  for 
putting  the  College  on  its  feet,  I  found  that  this 
had  disappeared  and  that  everything  was  in  a 
most  discouraging  condition.  Coming  as  I  did 
from  the  Iowa  College  where  I  had  been  doing 
things  in  a  large  way  —  if  not  always  in  the  best 
way  —  to  New  York  which  I  had  looked  upon  as  a 
great  State,  and  to  a  University  founded  upon 
broad  and  ideal  lines,  my  expectations  had  been 
high ;  and  when  I  discovered  the  true  condition  of 
affairs,  they  sank  low  —  lower,  perhaps  than  even 
these  untoward  conditions  warranted.  It  did  not 
take  me  long  to  decide  that  one  year  at  Cornell 
would  be  enough  unless  many  things  which  I  could 
scarcely  hope  for,  should  come  to  pass. 

Since  to  look  gloomy  and  to  complain  would  not 
help  matters,  I  set  to  work  to  eradicate  disease  and 


1 8  2  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

filth  from  the  dairy,  to  repair  buildings  and  fences, 
and  to  clean  up  things  generally.  And  quite  to  my 
surprise,  things  began  to  happen  which  made  the 
situation  more  tolerable.  In  the  Register  of 
1873-4  Professor  Caldwell's  name  had  been 
printed  as  "  Instructor  "  and  mine  as  "Assistant 
Professor;"  but  in  1874-5  Professor  Caldwell 
was  made  full  Professor  of  Agricultural  Chem- 
istry and  I  Professor  of  Agriculture.  This  pro- 
motion showed  that  my  efforts  during  that  first 
year  were  being  appreciated. 

I  think  it  was  in  the  fall  of  that  first  year  that 
President  A.  S.  Welch  of  the  Iowa  State  College 
of  Agriculture  and  Mechanic  Arts,  came  to  make 
me  a  visit.  Before  leaving  he  said  to  me  that 
while  I  was  at  the  Iowa  College  a  degree  mattered 
little  to  me  for  there  I  was  judged,  as  other  men 
were  in  the  West,  by  their  works ;  but  that  in  the 
East,  a  title  would  be  a  help  to  me.  He  offered  to 
bring  this  matter  to  the  attention  of  the  Iowa 
Faculty  on  the  ground  that  I  had  had  years  of 
study  and  experience,  although  I  had  not  followed 
the  regular  courses,  and  he  was  kind  enough  to 
say  that  I  had  earned  a  degree.  He  thought  it 
possible  that  they  would  give  me  an  honorary  one. 

Shortly  afterward,  by  a  unanimous  vote,  the 
Faculty  of  the  Iowa  College  recommended  to  the 


LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY     183 

Boajd  of  Trustees  that  I  be  given  the  degree  of 
Master  of  Agriculture,  and  the  Board  adopted  the 
recommendation.  This  was  the  first  degree,  of 
M.Agr.  ever  given  by  them  or,  in  fact,  given  by 
any  college  in  the  United  States. 

The  President  of  Cornell  University,  Andrew 
D.  White,  took  the  greatest  interest  in  my  work 
from  the  beginning;  and  as  I  became  better  ac- 
quainted with  Cornell  and  with  his  plans  I  think 
I  must  have  acquired  the  "  Cornell  spirit,"  for  by 
the  end  of  the  first  year  I  was  loath  to  give  up  my 
place.  So  much  had  been  done  to  encourage  me 
and  to  give  my  department  as  good  standing  as  it 
could  have,  considering  the  circumstances,  that  I 
reconsidered  my  determination  to  return  to  my 
farm  in  Iowa.  I  realized  that  the  time  had  come 
for  me  to  make  a  well-digested  plan  for  my  future 
life  and  for  my  children  and  to  pursue  it  stead- 
fastly to  the  end.  I  saw  that  there  was  a  larger 
future  here  both  for  them  and  for  me  than  there 
would  be  if  I  should  become  the  livestock  farmer 
in  Iowa  that  I  had  planned  to  be.  By  this  time 
maturity  and  a  broader  outlook  had  caused  me  to 
understand  the  possibilities  of  agricultural  educa- 
tion and  I  determined  to  lay  the  foundations  of  a 
College  of  Agriculture  such  as  had  never  been 
conceived. 


1 84  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

On  the  ist  of  April,  1874,  I  took  an  inventory 
of  all  the  property  belonging  to  the  farm,  a  copy 
of  which  I  filed  with  the  University  Treasurer  — 
the  first  ever  taken  by  any  department  of  the  Uni- 
versity. The  next  year  orders  went  out  to  every 
department  to  file  such  lists  of  property  with  values 
affixed.  I  also  introduced  a  system  of  farm  ac- 
counts so  that  not  only  the  loss  and  gain  of  the 
whole  undertaking  but  of  each  subdivision  of  it 
might  be  ascertained  —  an  idea  which  I  had 
brought  from  the  Iowa  College.  This  farm  ac- 
counting was  so  carefully  worked  out  even  then 
that  it  is  still  followed  with  scarcely  a  change 
except  in  minor  details. 

It  revealed  many  things  unseen  before.  It  ap- 
peared that  the  dairy  might  be  made  to  more  than 
pay  expenses;  and  the  work  stock  also,  for  they 
found  employment  in  other  departments  when  not 
needed  on  the  farm;  and  this,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  all  the  animals  were  in  wretched  condition. 
There  were  ten  milch  cows  that  had  among  them 
only  twenty-two  milkable  teats  and  the  Veterin- 
arian did  not  have  to  be  called  in  to  know  that 
the  herd  was  infected  with  tuberculosis.  One  of 
the  work  oxen  was  sound  and  strong  but  it  took 
most  of  his  strength  to  hold  up  his  mate.  There 


LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY     185 

was  a  stallion  of  noted  Arabian  lineage  which  had 
been  donated  to  the  University  and  was  said  to  be 
worth  $15,000  but  I  have  always  thought  that 
the  decimal  point  ought  to  have  been  placed  two 
figures  to  the  left.  He  had  not  been  out  of  his 
box  stall  for  two  years.  Although  he  was  the  sire 
of  a  few  colts  he  was  withdrawn  from  service  per- 
haps because  his  colts  did  not  have  legs  enough  on 
which  to  place  the  curbs,  ring-bones,  spavins,  and 
deformities,  which  he  was  capable  of  transmitting. 
When  we  took  that  Arab  of  the  Desert  out  of  his 
stall  and  rode  him,  he  fell  dead ! 

The  renter  of  the  University  Farm  owned  a 
farm  in  Cortland  on  which  he  kept  a  herd  of  short- 
horns and  a  flock  of  Merino  sheep ;  but  his  public 
boarding  house  table  at  Cascadilla  Place  was  pro- 
vided with  milk  and  meats  from  the  pick-ups  and 
semi-uddered  cows  brought  from  his  own  farm  to 
the  University.  And  that's  the  kind  of  food  we 
fed  upon  at  u  The  Bastile  "  in  those  early  days! 

I  am  giving  this  circumstantial  account  of  the 
unhappy  conditions  which  I  found  on  taking 
charge  of  the  University  Farm  that  you  may  bet- 
ter understand  how  difficult  the  problems  were 
which  I  had,  by  implication  at  least,  promised  to 
solve.  So  far  from  being  a  model  to  the  farmers 


1 86  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

of  the  State  the  farm  was  under  the  shadow  of  dis- 
honesty and  mismanagement,  and  I  was  a  stranger 
in  the  land  of  my  birth.  Vice-President  Russell 
once  remarked  to  me  that  there  was  nothing  he 
dreaded  so  much  as  to  have  a  farmer  drop  in  and 
ask  to  be  shown  over  the  "  Model  Farm."  Many 
a  time  I  looked  back  longingly  to  my  Iowa  farm 
and  while  load  after  load  of  stone  was  being  taken 
from  the  fields  at  Cornell,  I  remembered  the  black 
soil  of  the  prairies;  but  having  set  my  hand  to  this 
task,  I  would  not  draw  back. 

One  of  the  first  things  I  did  was  to  have  the 
immense  accumulation  of  farmyard  manure  hauled 
out  and  spread  thickly  on  the  corn  ground  that 
was  to  be.  The  manure  was  strawey,  the  spring 
wet  and  late,  the  ground  undrained  and  clayey ;  and 
after  waiting  for  it  to  dry  it  was  plowed  at  last  a 
little  too  moist  and  quite  as  deep  as  I  was  used  to 
plowing  the  friable,  warm  soil  of  the  prairies.  It 
will  be  seen  that  I  made  three  serious  mistakes  at 
once  in  one  cornfield  on  that  farm  that  was  to  be 
a  "model;  "  but  apparently  no  one  observed  them 
but  myself  and  the  corn.  Afterwards  when  I  had 
drained  this  field  and  otherwise  improved  its  pro- 
ductive power,  we  were  able  to  raise  in  one  propi- 
tious year,  over  eighty  bushels  of  shelled  corn  per 


LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY     187 

acre,  although  the  soil  was  too  clayey  and  the 
climate  too  cool  for  the  most  successful  corn 
culture. 

That  first  year  a  field  of  oats  was  sown  with 
seed  which  was  already  in  the  granary.  The  grain 
ripened  early,  but  did  not  yield  half  as  much  as  I 
thought  it  should  in  a  climate  so  well  adapted  to 
oat  culture  as  that  of  western  New  York.  So  after 
harvest,  I  made  a  visit  to  some  farms  near  Ovid, 
a  town  about  twenty  miles  down  the  lake  and  not 
far  from  my  boyhood  home.  Here  the  oat  har- 
vest was  just  beginning  and  the  crop  was  abundant. 
This  was  in  part  attributable  to  the  beech  and 
maple  land  which  was  naturally  much  better 
adapted  for  oats  than  the  pine  and  hemlock  lands 
about  Ithaca.  The  next  spring  I  secured  seed  from 
Ovid  of  these  "  Dog-tail "  oats  and  the  following 
year  the  yield  per  acre  on  the  University  Farm  was 
much  larger. 

I  became  acquainted  with  Jacob  Bates,  a  neigh- 
boring farmer,  who  not  only  had  good  land  but 
was  expert  in  cultivating  it.  He  was  sowing  two 
bushels  of  oats  and  one-half  bushel  of  barley 
mixed,  per  acre,  and  made  the  claim  that  he  had 
raised  one  hundred  bushels  per  acre  of  this  mix- 
ture. I  adopted  his  practice  with  most  successful 


1 88  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

results.  The  barley  shoots  up  ahead  of  the  oats 
and  becomes  well  developed  in  grains  before  the 
oats  throws  up  its  seed  stalks  and  heads  out.  Then 
when  it  does,  the  barley  is  hidden  and  supported 
till  harvest  time.  I  tried  year  after  year  to  excel 
this  neighbor  but  only  once  succeeded  in  raising 
a  trifle  more  than  eighty  bushels  per  acre.  How- 
ever, I  did  succeed  while  at  Cornell,  in  more  than 
doubling  the  average  yield  secured  by  my  prede- 
cessors. 

Not  long  after  I  came  to  Cornell  I  made  a  visit 
to  Fayette,  Seneca  County,  and  while  there  I  drew 
out  of  those  superior  Dutch  farmers  about  all  they 
knew  of  New  York  agriculture.  It  must  be  re- 
membered that  almost  all  of  my  adult  life  had 
been  spent  on  the  prairies  of  the  West  and  all  I 
knew  of  eastern  farming  had  been  learned  in  my 
boyhood  at  East  Varick.  So  once  again  I  had  to 
become  a  painstaking  student  in  order  to  fit  myself 
to  cope  with  New  York  conditions. 

Let  me  go  back  to  the  history  of  that  oat  field ! 
After  the  first  oat  harvest  the  land  was  prepared 
and  seeded  in  September  to  winter  wheat.  About 
two  weeks  afterwards  six  quarts  of  timothy  seed 
per  acre  were  sowed  among  the  young  wheat 
plants.  Parenthetically  I  may  say,  that  if  grass 


LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY     189 

seed  is  sown  at  the  time  of  seeding  to  wheat  and 
the  wheat  should  be  injured  by  the  winter,  the 
timothy,  being  hardier  and  more  vigorous,  will 
have  the  advantage  and  the  harvest  is  likely  to 
show  as  much  headed-out  timothy  as  wheat.  In 
the  spring  six  quarts  to  the  acre  of  mixed  red  and 
alsike  clover  seed  were  also  sowed. 

To  harvest  the  wheat,  I  purchased  a  self  twine- 
binder,  which  I  think  was  the  first  in  that  region. 
We  had  a  regular  two-ring  circus  cutting  that 
wheat.  When  the  machine  ran  parallel  to  the  hills 
it  would  upset  if  someone  did  not  hold  down  the 
grain-wheel;  then  we  started  straight  up  from  the 
bottom  of  the  hill  with  my  carriage  team  hitched 
on  ahead  of  the  three-horse  team;  but  now  the 
grain  would  slide  off  the  endless  apron  unless 
someone  held  it  on  with  a  hand  rake.  In  spite  of 
every  care  the  grain  went  to  the  binder  much 
tangled;  then  the  binder  kicked — or  rather  re- 
fused to  kick  —  the  sheaves  out  of  the  goose-neck. 

Mr.  W.  R.  Lazenby,  who  was  then  a  senior  in 
College  and  is  now  a  Professor  in  Ohio  University, 
helped  to  draw  in  the  grain  one  torrid  August  day. 
The  first  load  upset  and  the  wagon  with  it  and  it 
was  a  couple  of  hours  before  a  part  of  a  load  ar- 
rived at  the  barn.  Mr.  Lazenby  took  a  drink  of 


190  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

water,  mopped  his  face,  and  made  this  wise  re- 
mark, which  had  been  evolved  out  of  his  difficul- 
ties :  "  Professor,  I  don't  believe  it  is  profitable  to 
raise  wheat  on  that  field."  And  I  promised  him 
then  and  there  that  it  should  never  be  plowed 
again  even  if  I  stayed  there  a  quarter  of  a  century. 

And  I  kept  my  word  although  I  stayed  there 
nearly  thirty  years.  The  next  year  the  field  was 
mowed  and  ever  after  it  was  pastured.  This  is  the 
field  known  as  the  "  Roberts'  Pasture  "  which  now 
for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century,  has  attracted 
much  attention,  though  I  never  did  anything  won- 
derful to  it  —  I  merely  treated  it  liberally,  for 
I  believe  that  pastures  and  boys,  alike,  should  be 
treated  not  too  niggardly.  Only  to-day  I  met  a 
wealthy  man's  fourteen-year-old  son  going  to  see 
Mr.  Paulan's  free  display  of  aviation,  thirty  miles 
away.  He  had  been  given  only  just  money  enough 
to  pay  steam-car  fare,  so  I  paid  his  street-car  fare 
rather  than  see  him  walk  a  mile  to  the  station. 
That  boy  may  fly  from  home  later  on  as  his  elder 
brother  did,  merely  because  he  was  not  generously 
treated. 

The  back  field  of  the  farm  when  I  came  to  Cor- 
nell, was  in  timothy  which  had  been  mowed  for 


LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY     191 

several  years  previously,  but  ox-eyed  daisies  had 
virtually  taken  possession  of  it.  Discussing  this 
apparent  failure  with  a  neighboring  farmer,  he 
remarked  casually  that  he  would  be  willing  to 
gather  the  crop  for  half  the  hay  —  "  daisies  made 
pretty  fair  hay ! "  He  was  right  and  I  gained  a 
new  idea.  That  field  later,  after  it  was  drained 
and  coaxed,  produced  a  little  over  forty-five  bush- 
els of  wheat  per  acre  —  the  best  crop  I  ever 
raised.* 

About  1890,  much  discussion  was  going  on  in 
the  agricultural  papers,  as  to  the  possibility  of 
growing  alfalfa  in  the  dairy  districts  of  New 
York.  I  studied  the  subject  and  planted  a  small 
area  in  May  of  the  following  year,  only  to  meet 
with  failure.  Again  I  tried  it,  sowing  as  before 
about  the  middle  of  May  —  as  I  had  been  told  to 
do  by  those  who  thought  they  knew  —  only  to  fail 
again.  Had  I  used  my  reason  I  should  have 
known  better,  since  the  best  time  for  sowing  other 
kinds  of  clover  was  from  a  month  to  six  weeks 
earlier.  For  the  third  time,  a  quarter  of  an  acre 
of  alfalfa  was  sown;  but  for  convenience  sake  and 
by  mere  chance,  it  was  put  in  about  the  first 

*  See  frontispiece  in  "  The  Cereals  of  America,"  by  Thomas 
F.  Hunt,  Professor  of  Agronomy  at  Cornell  University. 


192  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

of  April,  and  at  last  came  success  and  added 
knowledge. 

The  following  spring  half  of  the  field  was  sown 
as  early  as  March  and  was  well  up  when  a  late 
frost  came.  According  to  the  authors  I  had  read, 
it  should  have  been  destroyed,  but  while  the  red 
clover  was  nipped  a  little,  the  alfalfa  was  unin- 
jured. How  slow  we  are  to  discover  such  simple 
facts!  The  rest  of  the  field  was  sown  the  next 
year,  and  this  alfalfa  was  still  making  a  record 
when  it  was  plowed  up  a  year  or  two  ago.  Pro- 
fessor Stone  in  a  letter  from  Cornell,  dated  Feb- 
ruary 5,  1910,  writes: 

"  The  old  alfalfa  field  has  been  plowed  up  to 
make  room  for  plant  gardens.  Alfalfa  was  very 
successful  there  for  several  seasons  and  we  got  five 
or  six  tons  of  hay  per  acre  from  the  tract." 

All  these  fields  that  I  have  been  describing,  are 
now  given  over  to  the  Athletic  Association.  A  cor- 
respondent informs  me  that  there  has  been  ex- 
pended up  to  June,  1909,  in  grading,  draining, 
seeding  and  preparation,  over  thirty-seven  thou- 
sand dollars.  And  it  is  reported  that  a  fund  of  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars  is  to  be  raised  for  fur- 
ther improvements,  mostly  for  buildings  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  athletic  teams  and  a 


LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY     193 

stadium.  It  is  expected  that  eventually  a  much 
larger  sum  will  be  expended  in  putting  up  a  gym- 
nasium with  its  various  appurtenances.  I  am  won- 
dering if  all  this  will  result  in  making  two  "  Young 
Blades  "  grow  where  it  was  so  difficult  for  me  to 
make  one  blade  of  corn  grow,  thirty-five  years  ago. 
As  the  farm  was  already  committed  to  an  all- 
year-round  dairy,  I  determined  to  raise  mangel 
wurtzels,  a  large  kind  of  beet,  for  the  dairy  cattle. 
Like  other  farmers  at  that  time  I  planted  them 
after  the  corn  was  planted,  it  being  a  major  crop 
while  the  minor  crop  of  roots  could  wait.  While 
watching  the  men  at  the  hateful  task  of  weeding 
them,  I  endeavored  to  think  of  some  plan  by  which 
the  labor  of  tillage  and  weeding  could  be  lessened 
and  the  cost  of  production  as  well.  My  first 
thought  was  that  a  summer  fallow  the  previous 
year  would  reduce  the  weed  growth;  but  that  ran 
counter  to  my  accepted  theory  that  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, the  ground  should  be  occupied  by  plants  the 
entire  year,  thus  imitating  Nature's  modes  of 
action.  Nature  grows  a  plant  on  every  inch  of 
arable  land,  thus  furnishing  food  for  millions  of 
animals,  while  at  the  same  time  the  soil  grows 
more  productive  year  by  year.  The  three  golden 
links,  I  used  to  say,  were :  to  raise  a  plant  to  feed 

7 


194  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

an  animal,  to  furnish  fertility  to  raise  another 
plant,  to  feed  another  animal  to  make  more  fer- 
tility; the  farmer  to  take  his  toll  as  the  links 
revolved. 

While  meditating  on  this  matter  of  raising 
beets,  the  thought  came  to  me :  how  did  my  father 
raise  those  fine  beets  in  chopping  the  tops  of  which 
I  cut  off  my  sister's  index  finger?  Then  I  remem- 
bered that  as  early  as  he  could  get  the  ground  in 
good  condition  he  always  planted  onions,  peas, 
beets  and  other  frost-resisting  plants.  So  next 
spring  I  planted  mangel  wurtzels  in  April.  The 
seeds  germinated  better  than  before  and  the  beets 
got  a  good  start  before  the  warm  weather  germ- 
inated the  weed  seeds.  This  simple  knowledge 
which  had  come  down  to  me  from  a  former  gen- 
eration, reduced  the  cost  of  raising  mangolds  be- 
low five  cents  —  even  as  low  as  three  cents  per 
bushel,  occasionally  —  thus  making  their  cost  as 
well  as  their  feeding  value  compare  favorably  with 
other  cattle  foods.  It  was  in  such  simple  and  ac- 
cidental ways  that  the  agricultural  pioneers  blazed 
the  way  before  experiment  stations  were  estab- 
lished. 

I  purposely  over-stocked  the  farm  in  order  to 
have  an  abundant  supply  of  barn  manure  to  restore 


LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY     195 

the  productivity  of  the  depleted  soil.  But  at  first 
manures  had  to  be  hauled  from  the  city,  four  hun- 
dred feet  below,  and  that  was  not  only  up-hill 
business  but  resulted  in  seeding  the  farm  with 
every  noxious  weed  known  in  the  locality  and  these 
gave  us  much  hard  work  afterward  to  eradicate. 
In  order  to  make  up  the  annual  shortage  of  food 
for  the  livestock  I  was  compelled  to  rent  some  ad- 
joining land;  and  it  is  only  now,  after  more  than 
thirty  years,  that  the  necessity  for  supplementing 
the  eighty  acres  of  arable  land  comprising  the  Uni- 
versity Farm,  has  been  met  by  the  purchase  of 
eight  hundred  and  thirty-eight  adjoining  acres. 

During  all  this  early  period  I  kept  in  mind  the 
two  objects  for  which  the  University  Farm  should 
be  maintained :  it  was  not  only  to  be  a  model  farm, 
it  was  to  serve  as  a  practical  laboratory  for  investi- 
gation and  instruction.  It  must  therefore  be  large 
and  varied  enough  to  provide  the  broadest  view  of 
agricultural  practice.  As  I  now  survey  the  agri- 
cultural colleges  after  a  full  generation  of  experi- 
mentation, I  am  struck  by  the  fact  that  those  which 
have  farms  of  considerable  size  (less  than  half  a 
score)  and  which  have  made  the  most  extensive  use 
of  them  as  an  educational  equipment,  are  now  the 
leaders  in  the  promotion  of  scientific,  practical  and 


196  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

profitable  husbandry;  while  those  which  have 
laid  greater  stress  on  classroom  work  than  on 
farm  demonstration  have  fallen  behind.  Farming 
in  the  classroom  is  too  much  like  farming  in  the 
city  —  it  lacks  the  flavor  of  the  soil.  Not  that  I 
prize  scientific  teaching  less  but  proofs  in  the  fields 
and  barns  more.  An  agricultural  college  where 
the  farm  is  left  out  is  like  an  old  mowing-machine 
that  a  farmer  was  tinkering  by  the  roadside  fence. 
When  a.  chauffeur  stopped  his  automobile  near  by, 
the  farmer  asked  "  What  kind  of  a  machine  is 
that?"  "An  automobile,"  the  chauffeur  replied, 
"  What  kind  of  machine  is  yours?  "  "Ought-to- 
mow-gra.ss,  but  it  won't,"  said  the  farmer. 

The  surprising  thing  about  the  back-to-the-farm 
movement  is,  that  it  is  fostered  largely  by  city  men. 
The  College  President  now  talks  flowingly  and 
learnedly  about  the  "  educational "  farm*  about 
the  dignity  and  nobility  and  independence  of  farm 
life,  and  even  tells  the  rising  generation  how  he 
used  to  shear  sheep,  mow  grass  and  do  other  farm 
stunts  —  all  this  to  stiffen  the  student's  vertebrae. 
And  the  Professors  of  Greek  listen  approvingly 
and  exclaim,  "  Me  too !  "  They  have  not  the  sin- 
cerity or  the  courage  to  admit  that  farming  is  in 
fact  a  strenuous  occupation  and  that  they  them- 
selves dodged  it  and  chose  the  direction  of  soft 


LIFE  AND  WORK  AT  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY     197 

hands  and  a  higher  remuneration ;  nor  would  they 
acknowledge  that  since  they  made  their  choice  they 
have  seldom  pined  for  the  sound  of  the  cowbell, 
the  bleating  of  those  lovely  lambs  or  the  raucous 
refrain  of  long-nosed,  hungry  Jersey  Red  pigs. 
"  They  might  mow  grass  but  they  won't !  " 
The  students  in  agriculture  being  few,  the  farm 
was  of  necessity  my  chief  reliance  in  building  up 
the  reputation  of  the  department  and  I  determined 
that  it  should  be  creditable  to  the  University.  At 
that  time  the  Trustees  had  not  much  interest  in  the 
farm  and  did  not  know  enough  about  it  to  appre- 
ciate my  difficulties.  Many  years  afterwards,  be- 
fore my  connection  with  the  University  ceased,  a 
Trustee  was  appointed  to  look  over  the  farm  and 
make  a  report  upon  it.  The  report  was  honest, 
thorough  and  highly  commendatory  and  so  at  last 
after  twenty-five  years,  my  work  received  the 
recognition  which  its  difficulties  deserved.  But 
during  all  that  intermediate  time,  the  business  men 
who  principally  constituted  the  Board  of  Trustees 
did  not  realize  its  importance  nor  the  stupendous 
results  which  were  certain  to  come  from  intelligent 
effort.  Of  necessity  the  initial  undertakings  were 
very  small;  and  the  Agricultural  Department 
shared  the  contempt  heaped  upon  the  University 


198  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

as  a  "  freshwater/'  "  hayseed  "  affair.  It  was  at 
first  far  easier  to  convince  the  farmers  that  the 
department  was  capable  of  becoming  a  great  factor 
in  the  uplift  of  their  calling,  than  to  gain  the  in- 
terest of  the  Trustees.  But  the  history  of  the  last 
ten  years  shows  that  at  last  they  have  realized  the 
value  of  the  College  of  Agriculture  to  the  welfare 
of  the  people  of  the  rural  districts  as  well  as  to 
the  cause  of  education. 

FARM  BUILDINGS 

When  I  went  to  Cornell  the  farm  buildings  con- 
sisted of  a  small,  dilapidated  farm  house  and  sev- 
eral low,  rambling  barns,  useful  in  a  way  and  not 
altogether  bad,  which  stood  close  to  the  college 
buildings  not  far  from  the  Gorge.  I  spent  a 
month's  rent  in  advance  in  making  the  house  hab- 
itable and  then  we  moved  in.  About  a  year  later 
when  I  had  definitely  decided  to  remain  at  Cor- 
nell, I  drew  from  a  western  investment  which  was 
bringing  ten  per  cent  interest,  eleven  hundred  dol- 
lars with  which  I  installed  modern  sanitary  con- 
veniences and  put  this  house  in  decent  condition. 
The  University  authorities  agreed  to  charge  off  as 
rent  each  year  a  stipulated  amount  until  the  total 
sum  should  equal  the  amount  advanced  less  the 


FARM  BUILDINGS  199 

interest.  While  the  house  was  being  repaired  in 
a  summer  vacation,  we  lived  in  the  classrooms  in 
Morrill  Hall.  About  a  year  later  in  this  re- 
modelled house  my  youngest  son,  Roger  Marr 
Roberts,  was  born  on  July  12,  1876.  For  the  sake 
of  finishing  what  I  have  to  say  about  my  dwellings, 
I  may  add  that  in  1877-78  I  built  a  comfortable 
house  on  East  Avenue,  which  is  now  owned  and 
occupied  by  one  of  my  former  students,  Professor 
Stocking  of  the  Dairy  Department. 

When  I  took  charge  of  the  farm  there  was  no 
provision  for  the  farm  hands;  they  had  to  live 
either  in  the  town  of  Ithaca  or  the  little  village 
now  called  Forest  Home,  in  either  case  far  from 
their  work.  They  sometimes  drank  too  much  and 
were  tired  out  in  climbing  the  hill  before  the  day's 
work  began,  for  at  this  time  there  was,  of  course, 
no  street  car  to  the  Campus.  It  was  imperative 
that  they  should  live  near  their  work  so  I  began 
by  having  an  old  carpenter  shop  which  stood  near 
the  barns,  repaired  and  into  it  the  dairyman  and 
his  family  moved.  Hard  by  stood  a  small  building 
which  Dr.  Law  had  used  when  dissecting  horses, 
and  which  had  been  abandoned  because  someone 
who  lived  near  by  objected  to  the  use  made  of  it. 
This  little  veterinary  laboratory  was  moved  away 


200  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

into  an  orchard  where  it  was  less  conspicuous  and 
when  repaired  and  enlarged  the  families  of  two 
Danish  workmen  occupied  it  and  immediately  be- 
gan to  take  in  boarders  and  washing.  Eight  years 
later  these  two  thrifty  farmhands  moved  west, 
each  of  them  taking  with  him  about  twelve  hun- 
dred dollars. 

The  next  year  I  invested  some  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  in  a  rent  cottage  for  workmen, 
which  I  located  near  the  old  McCandless  barn  on 
the  south  side  of  the  farm  southeast  of  the  present 
site  of  Sage  College,  in  order  to  protect  the  barn 
from  tramps  and  fire.  I  should  have  known  better 
for  it  was  one  of  the  best  things  that  ever  hap- 
pened when  that  monstrous  building  burned  down 
a  few  years  afterward.  After  the  new  barn 
(1881)  which  I  shall  describe  in  detail  farther  on, 
was  erected,  I  invested  a  thousand  dollars  of  my 
own  money  to  provide  a  house  for  the  foreman  of 
the  farm.  After  some  years  the  University  au- 
thorities took  over  these  tenant  houses  which  I  had 
built  at  prices  which  let  me  out  nearly  even  on  cost 
but  gave  me  little  interest  on  the  money.  As  I 
have  already  suggested,  the  housing  of  the  work- 
men near  their  work  and  my  interest  in  their  wel- 
fare, resulted  in  making  them  more  efficient  and 
improving  their  habits. 


MODEL  BARN 

Built  under  Professor  Roberts  direction,  1881 ;  torn  down 
to  make  way  for  College  buildings,  1912. 


FARM  BUILDINGS  201 

About  a  year  after  I  came  to  Cornell  the  Presi- 
dent asked  me  if  I  would  not  like  to  have  a  new 
barn.  I  said  I  was  not  ready  for  that;  I  did  not 
want  to  duplicate  the  mistakes  of  my  predecessor 
and  I  was  not  yet  sure  what  branches  of  farm 
activities  should  be  most  emphasized.  It  was  not 
until  1880  that  the  "model  barn"  was  erected; 
by  that  time  the  University  authorities  had  become 
very  anxious  to  get  the  old  barn  removed  from 
the  Campus  and  so  their  response  to  my  request 
for  a  new  barn  was  prompt  and  cordial.  The 
Building  Committee  of  the  Trustees  located  it,  but 
after  that  they  left  me  to  plan  and  build  it  accord- 
ing to  my  own  judgment. 

The  barn  was  an  L-shaped  structure  and,  as  I 
remember,  128  feet  long  and  120  feet  broad  — 
when  the  piggery  was  added  later,  140  feet  broad 
—  and  like  the  Dutchman's  horse,  "  the  biggest 
the  way  you  measured  it  last."  The  lower  story 
was  devoted  to  the  dairy  animals  and  from  their 
feet  to  the  top  of  the  metal  cow  surmounting  the 
lightning  rod  which  projected  about  four  feet 
above  the  cupola,  was  just  one  hundred  feet.  The 
basement  also  contained  a  covered  yard,  an  engine 
and  boiler,  an  ice  house,  a  root  cellar  and  a  milk 
delivery  room.  The  horses,  wagons,  granaries 


202  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

and  office  occupied  most  of  the  second  floor;  the 
sheep,  grain,  hay,  straw  and  stationary  thresher, 
the  third  floor.  The  mows*  would  hold  the  sheaves 
of  600  to  700  bushels  of  grain  and  100  tons  of 
hay.  Provision  was  made  for  everything  a  barn 
should  contain  except  poultry  —  which  it  should 
not  contain. 

President  Adams,  our  second  President,  once 
said  when  admiring  the  barn  from  that  delightful 
view  from  the  reservoir,  "  The  lines  of  that  barn 
are  the  most  harmonious  of  any  building  on  the 
grounds."  Later  an  addition  was  made  to  it 
which  injured  its  architectural  beauty.  To  me  it 
was  not  only  beautiful  on  the  outside,  but  physic- 
ally restful  and  mentally  satisfying  on  the  inside, 
because  it  was-  the  embodiment  of  my  dreams. 
This  barn  cost  about  $7,000  and  the  lumber,  when 
it  was  finally  torn  down  in  1912  to  make  room  for 
an  Agricultural  College  building,  was  estimated 
to  be  worth  about  $4,000;  and  now  another  has 
been  erected  way  back  on  the  farm  which  cost 
nearly  four  times  as  much. 

In  the  basement  and  under  the  horse  stalls,  a 
space,  about  44  by  60  feet,  was  set  apart  to  store 
manures,  and  this  provided  a  place  where  the  cows 
might  stretch  their  legs  as  health  demanded.  The 


FARM  BUILDINGS  203 

large  crops  of  grain  furnished  straw  enough  to 
keep  this  exercising  yard  fairly  tidy.  I  had  a  good 
deal  of  doubt  about  the  advisability  of  such  a  yard, 
for  someone  had  stated  in  one  of  the  agricultural 
journals  that  the  health  of  the  cattle  in  it  and  es- 
pecially of  the  horses  over  it  would  be  greatly  en- 
dangered by  bacteria  and  by  the  gases.  As  a  pre- 
caution I  had  the  floors  of  the  horse  stables  above 
this  yard  made  practically  water  tight  and  gas- 
proof by  using  asphalt  and  tarred  paper  liberally 
between  two  layers  of  the  double  floor. 

It  is  almost  funny  now  to  think  how  excessive 
this  precaution  was.  When  Professor  Raymond 
Pearson  —  one  of  my  former  students,  in  1911 
Commissioner  of  Agriculture  for  New  York,  and 
now  President  of  the  Iowa  State  College  of  Agri- 
culture and  Mechanics  Arts  —  was  selected  to  be 
the  head  of  the  Dairy  Department,  he  placed 
double  doors  between  the  cow  stable  and  the  milk 
receiving  room,  thereby  forming  a  vestibule  to 
keep  the  microbes  from  passing  from  the  stable  to 
the  milk  receiving  room.  Upon  making  a  com- 
parative test  of  the  air  in  this  fortified  milk  room 
and  in  the  covered  barn  yard,  by  exposing  petra 
plates,  it  was  found  that  the  air  in  the  covered 


204  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

yard  was  distinctly  freer  from  bacteria  than  the 
milk  room. 

The  sheep  quarters  on  the  third  floor,  where 
winter  lambs  were  reared,  was  practically  frost 
proof.  The  lambs  which  yeaned  in  December  and 
January  were  highly  fed  and,  when  from  six  to 
seven  weeks  old,  were  hog-dressed  and  expressed 
to  New  York  City  where  they  found  a  market  at 
prices  ranging  from  five  to  ten  dollars  per  head. 
We  learned  among  many  other  things,  for  this  was 
an  experimental  as  well  as  a  commercial  undertak- 
ing, that  if  the  ewes  were  not  shorn  before  going 
into  winter  quarters,  the  high  feeding  and  mild 
temperature  made  it  very  uncomfortable  for  them, 
although  such  conditions  were  ideal  for  making 
the  lambs  grow  rapidly.  I  may  as  well  mention 
briefly  here  my  only  attempt  to  establish  a  flock  of 
superior  fine-wool  American  Merinos  for  instruc- 
tional purposes.  About  the  time  this  barn  was 
built  I  bought  thirty  fine-wool  sheep,  paying  for 
them  about  twice  the  ordinary  price.  The  dogs 
chased  several  of  them  over  a  precipice,  wounded 
others  and  practically  destroyed  the  usefulness  of 
the  flock  for  the  purposes  for  which  I  had  designed 
them  and  so  ended  that  experiment. 


EXPERIMENTS  IN  SILAGE  205 


EXPERIMENTS  IN  SILAGE 

About  the  time  the  barn  was  built  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  talk  in  the  farm  journals  as  to  the 
desirability  of  preserving  in  silos  or  pits,  green 
roughage  for  livestock.  I  think  only  one  perma- 
nent silo  had  then  been  built  in  America,  though 
many  notions  as  to  how  they  should  be  built  were 
paraded  in  the  press.  In  order  to  try  it  out  we 
built  in  an  angle  of  the  barn  a  great  cavernous  silo 
of  concrete  with  a  provision  for  two  huge  screws 
by  which  silage  could  be  pressed  down  solidly. 
As  the  pressure  was  not  a  following  one,  the  screw 
had  to  be  turned  several  times  a  day  to  serve  its 
purpose.  This  contrivance  not  being  altogether 
satisfactory,  next  year  the  material  was  weighted 
with  several  tons  of  stone  which  worked  better  but 
still  did  not  meet  my  requirements.  Then  the 
silage  was  weighted  with  a  covering  of  two  feet 
of  earth  by  which  we  hoped  to  form  an  air-tight 
seal  as  well  as  attain  a  following  pressure.  But  the 
earth  covering  dried  out  rapidly,  became  porous, 
and  was  scarcely  better  than  the  stones.  Next 
straw,  kept  thoroughly  wet,  was  used  as  a  cover- 
ing; while  it  did  not  weight  down  the  silage  and 
speedily  became  half-rotten,  it  proved  to  be  the 


206  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

best  seal  we  had  yet  found.  Now,  I  believe,  the 
common  practice  is  to  keep  the  top  of  the  silage 
quite  moist  which  forms  a  seal  of  semi-decayed 
material  two  to  four  inches  thick  which  is  dis- 
carded when  the  silo  is  opened. 

However,  I  was  not  yet  content,  for  the  silage 
was  at  one  time  too  acid  and  others  too  dry  and 
fire-fanged  at  the  walls  of  the  structure.  So  I 
constructed  a.  cistern,  of  about  seven  tons  capacity, 
the  walls  of  which  were  asphalted  to  make  them 
air-tight.  When  this  was  filled  with  roughage, 
burning  charcoal  in  a  kettle  was  put  into  the  top 
of  the  silo  and  then  the  cover,  which  I  had  tried  to 
make  air-tight,  was  put  in  place  and  overlaid  with 
about  two  feet  of  earth.  This  did  not  prove 
enough  better  than  the  open  method  to  justify  the 
large  expense  and  the  inconvenience  in  emptying 
the  silo.  Next,  I  had  made  a  galvanized  iron 
cylinder  of  five  hundred  to  one  thousand  pounds 
capacity,  which  would  at  least  be  air-tight,  and  I 
filled  it  up  with  green  corn.  Then  procuring  two 
cylinders  of  compressed  carbonic  acid  gas,  the  air 
in  the  little  iron  silo  was  forced  out  by  forcing  the 
carbonic  acid  gas  in  —  the  silo  was  thus  filled  with 
green  corn  and  a  deadly  gas.  I  had  succeeded  at 
last  for  when  the  material  came  out  it  was  ap- 
parently in  just  the  same  state  as  when  it  went  in. 


LIVESTOCK  207 

I  sent  a  sample  to  Professor  Henry  of  Wisconsin 
University  and  he  wrote  laconically :  *  You  can't 
do  it  again !  "  But  although  I  could  and  did,  I  saw 
that  the  expense  of  this  method  also  was  pro- 
hibitive. 

LIVESTOCK 

Without  consulting  the  University  authorities  I 
gradually  got  rid  of  the  miserable  milch  cows  and 
other  poor  cattle  which  were  on  the  farm  when  I 
took  charge,  and  by  the  time  the  Universal  Barn 
was  built  I  was  beginning  to  build  up  a  creditable 
herd;  but  I  was  not  yet  out  of  trouble.  A  wealthy 
tea  merchant  of  New  York  City,  who  was  a 
breeder  of  fancy  Jersey  cattle,  and  a  friend  of  one 
of  the  Trustees,  donated  to  the  farm  two  cows, 
and  a  bull  was  purchased  from  him  at  a  nominal 
price.  At  this  time  Jerseys  were  believed  to  be 
the  best  of  all  dairy  breeds. 

Meanwhile,  I  had  become  interested  in  Hoi- 
steins.  Mr.  W.  W.  Chenery  of  Boston,  on  a  busi- 
ness trip  to  the  Netherlands,  had  admired  and  pur- 
chased a  cow  of  one  of  the  now  well-known  Hol- 
stein-Friesian  breed  of  dairy  cattle,  which  proved 
to  be  so  satisfactory  that  he  soon  imported  a  male 
and  some  more  females  and  established  a  small 
herd  in  the  suburbs  of  Boston  —  the  first  one  of 


208  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

this  breed  in  this  country.  By  reading  the  current 
livestock  literature  I  had  become  familiar  with  this 
venture.  I  had  already  learned,  by  keeping  de- 
tailed accounts  of  the  various  sub-divisions  of  the 
farm  activities  such  as  dairy,  workstock,  wheat, 
oats,  hay  and  the  like,  that  the  dairy  was  the  most 
satisfactory  pot-boiler  of  them  all.  Having  ob- 
tained permission  from  the  University  authorities 
to  buy  some  of  this  breed  I  purchased  from  Mr. 
Chenery  two  full-bloods  and  one  half-blood  —  all 
that  my  money  would  buy. 

For  many  years  Ezra  Cornell  had  maintained 
on  his  farm  adjoining  the  College  grounds  a  fine 
herd  of  Shorthorns  and  just  as  I  was  congratulat- 
ing myself  on  having  made  a  start  in  two  good 
dairy  breeds,  there  came  through  a  second  person 
and  like  a  clap  of  thunder  from  a  clear  sky,  a 
serious  objection.  The  Governor  of  the  State  .was 
the  son  of  our  honored  founder  and  it  seemed  that 
he  thought  that  the  bringing  of  those  black  and 
white  cattle  to  the  College  Farm  had  greatly  de- 
preciated the  value  of  his  father's  holdings.  It 
must  be  explained  that  although  the  Shorthorns 
were  regarded  as  the  beef  breed,  par  excellence, 
certain  strains  or  families  of  them  as  for  instance 
the  Princess  tribe,  were  considered  excellent  dairy 


LIVESTOCK  209 

animals.  In  1873,  the  Eighth  Duchess  of  Geneva 
had  sold  at  public  auction  at  New  York  Mills,  for 
forty  thousand  six  hundred  dollars  and  other  ani- 
mals of  the  same  blood  for  nearly  as  much.  It  was 
quite  natural  that  Mr.  Cornell's  son  should  speak 
slightingly  of  my  purchase  and  I  felt  that  it  was 
most  unfortunate  that  I  had  offended  so  influential 
a  man.  The  thing  was  done,  however,  and  there 
was  nothing  that  could  palliate  it. 

Soon  afterwards  I  was  diverted  by  a  far  more 
serious  trouble;  some  of  my  cherished  pure-blood 
animals  contracted  tuberculosis,  probably  from 
germs  lurking  in  the  old  stables,  for  thorough  disin- 
fection had  not  been  thought  of  at  that  time.  With 
the  aid  of  Dr.  Law  the  battle  against  it  was  carried 
on  and  when  the  cattle  were  moved  to  the  Uni- 
versal Barn  we  supposed  it  was  eradicated  —  but 
we  were  mistaken.  Tuberculin  had  not  yet  been 
used  for  discovering  incipient  tuberculosis  and  it 
was  a  long  time  before  we  finally  had  a  clean  herd. 
During  all  this  time  very  little  progress  could  be 
made  in  improving  the  milk-producing  power  of 
the  herd  and  in  ten  years  little  had  been  accom- 
plished toward  establishing  a  herd  worthy  of  an 
agricultural  college. 

I  can  scarcely  expect  the  reader  of  these  small 
beginnings  and  of  all  these  troubles  to  understand 


210  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

how  important  they  were  to  me.  To  displease  the 
son  of  the  truly  great  man  who  had  given  his  life 
and  fortune  to  Cornell  University  -was  a  grief  to 
me  and  scarcely  less  to  offend  the  Governor  of  the 
State.  Some  of  my  mistakes  I  now  attribute  to  the 
fact  that  I  was  too  secretive  and  had  no  intimate 
friend  with  whom  I  could  take  counsel;  but  some 
of  them  were  due  to  pioneer  conditions  and  must 
have  been  made  by  any  teacher  of  agriculture. 
And  through  it  all  for  many  years  I  felt  that  the 
College  of  Agriculture  existed  only  by  sufferance 
and  that  I  had  no  real  sympathy  or  cooperation 
from  the  Trustees.  I  sometimes  wonder  now  why 
I  struggled  on  —  why  I  did  not  quit  the  job;  and  I 
can  only  suppose  that  it  was  because  the  dream  of 
what  might  be  done  still  lured  me  on. 

I  believed  that  if  I  won  out  at  all  it  must  be  by 
doing  something  for  the  State  which  others  had 
not  been  able  to  do.  The  University  needed  a 
large  and  highly  productive  dairy  not  only  to  edu- 
cate the  students  but  to  educate  the  dairymen  of 
the  State  so  that  they  would  improve  their  dairies, 
for  milk  production  was  one  of  the  foremost  of 
its  industries.  Year  after  year  I  quietly  picked  up 
a  Jersey  here  and  a  Holstein  there,  bred  grades 
and  a  few  pure-bloods,  sold  every  season  the 


LIVESTOCK  211 

poorest  of  the  herd  —  as  many  as  nine  at  one  time 
—  replacing  them  by  purchases  of  better  ones  or 
by  those  of  our  own  raising;  until  the  dairy  herd  of 
twenty-five  cows  averaged  —  including  two-year 
old  heifers  which  should  have  been  counted  as  half 
cows  —  eight  thousand  pounds  per  cow  per  year. 
Some  of  the  best  cows  exceeded  twelve  thousand 
pounds  per  year.  At  that  time  the  State  Dairy- 
men's Association  estimated  that  the  average  yield 
per  cow  per  year  throughout  the  State  was  between 
three  thousand  and  three  thousand  five  hundred 
pounds.  So  at  last  the  stars  in  the  "  Milky  "  way 
shone  clear  above  the  Cornell  hills. 

About  1885  Professor  H.  H.  Wing  became  my 
assistant  and  some  years  later  took  entire  charge 
of  the  Dairy  Department.  But  once  more  we  had 
a  scare  on  account  of  tuberculosis.  Once  a  year 
the  herd  was  tested  with  tuberculin,  and  that  year 
a  fine  Holstein  bull  responded  to  the  test.  It  was 
hard  to  believe  it  and  a  second  test  was  made 
which  confirmed  the  first.  To  improve  the  dairy 
cattle  of  the  surrounding  country  I  had  offered  the 
services  of  this  bull  to  the  farmers  at  a  nominal 
price  and  they  had  availed  themselves  of  the  offer. 
Dr.  Law  afterward  concluded  that  the  bull  had 
become  infected  from  this  outside  source  for,  when 
he  was  killed,  the  herd  remained  clean. 


212  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

HORTICULTURE 

When  I  began  at  Cornell  in  1874,  Professor  A. 
N.  Prentiss  occupied  the  Chair  of  Botany  and 
Horticulture.  His  classes  in  Botany  were  always 
very  large  as  it  was  a  required  study  in  several  of 
the  general  courses.  He  had  inadequate  assist- 
ance, for  it  was  difficult  in  these  earlier  years  for 
the  University  to  get  funds  even  for  running  ex- 
penses. Consequently  little  could  be  done  to  give 
the  students  a  knowledge  of  the  simplest  principles 
of  horticulture,  though  botany  was  well  taught.  As 
both  of  these  branches  were  fundamental  to  any 
broad  conception  of  agricultural  education,  I  was 
anxious  to  enlarge  the  work  to  include  training  in 
practical  horticulture  and  pomology;  and  all  the 
more  as  New  York  was  then  a  leading  state  in 
fruit  culture. 

I  asked  for  an  instructor  in  pomology  and  horti- 
culture and  the  Trustees  appointed  Mr.  W.  R. 
Lazenby  —  a  recent  graduate  of  the  Department 
—  to  that  position.  He  started  out  in  a  very  simple 
and  economical  way,  endeavoring  to  use  the  land 
assigned  to  him  for  gardens  as  a  working  labora- 
tory and  to  pay  expenses  as  well.  Even  under  the 
management  of  a  more  experienced  man  this 


HORTICULTURE  213 

would  have  been  an  impossibility  for  the  Uni- 
versity gardens  were  located  four  hundred  feet 
above  the  valley  and  the  crops  could  not  be  ready 
to  harvest  until  at  least  two  weeks  after  those 
grown  below.  By  the  time  our  products  were  put 
on  the  market  it  was  glutted  and  prices  were  below 
the  cost  of  production. 

Mr.  Lazenby  also  labored  under  other  difficul- 
ties in  that  Professor  Prentiss  was  overworked  and 
in  delicate  health  and  had  not  time  or  strength  to 
guide  his  young  assistant.  The  fates  being  against 
us  altogether,  the  attempt  was  abandoned. 

Several  years  afterwards  it  became  evident  that 
the  Department  must  be  re-established  and  when 
asked  by  one  of  the  Trustees  as  to  the  best  man  to 
put  in  charge  I  said  that  I  knew  of  only  one  who 
would  be  certain  to  make  a  success  of  the  undertak- 
ing—  Professor  Liberty  Hyde  Bailey,  then  at 
Michigan  Agricultural  College.  As  to  means  I 
thought  the  Trustees  should  be  prepared  to  furnish 
enough  to  give  the  Department  a  fair  start;  and 
as  to  the  details,  the  Professor  appointed  should 
be  free  to  work  them  out  to  suit  the  local  environ- 
ment and  in  accordance  with  his  own  judgment. 
Professor  Bailey  was  selected  to  take  charge  of 
this  Department  which  was  then  separated  from 


2i4  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Botany.     It  is  superfluous  for  me  to  recount  here 
the  story  of  his  great  success. 

The  Trustees  made  a  liberal  appropriation  for 
this  Department  and  when  the  United  States  Ex- 
periment Station  funds  were  yearly  apportioned 
among  the  various  investigational  divisions,  I  in- 
variably recommended  that  the  horticultural 
division  should  receive  the  largest  share,  since  it 
had  suffered  long  years  of  arrested  development. 
So  with  an  able  man  at  the  head  and  with  good  re- 
sources—  considering  the  demands  of  other  in- 
terests—  the  Department  grew  by  leaps  and 
bounds.  And  I  am  proud  of  the  fact  that  I  was 
instrumental  in  influencing  the  Trustees  to  furnish 
the  means  and  to  appoint  the  man  who  so  wonder- 
fully carried  out  the  task. 


THE  CHICKEN  BUSINESS  (which  deserves  a 
chapter  all  by  itself  !) 

About  1888  a  smiling  young  student  approached 
me  and  asked  me  why  we  didn't  have  a  poultry  de- 
partment? I  replied  rather  sharply  that  I  knew 
nothing  about  the  chicken  business ;  had  no  means 
to  employ  a  man  who  did,  if  there  was  such  a  man; 
and  that  I  had  seen  so  many  persons  go  through 
the  chicken  fever  and  come  out  looking  like  a 


THE  CHICKEN  BUSINESS  215 

moulting  hen  sitting  on  one  egg,  that  I  was  in  a 
critical  frame  of  mind.  Without  being  daunted  in 
the  least,  he  said  that  he  knew  something  about  the 
chicken  business  and  would  like  to  try  his  hand  at 
it.  He  thought  poultry  culture  ought  to  be  taught 
at  the  college  and  he  proceeded  to  describe  enthu- 
siastically, ways,  means  and  possible  results. 

He  finally  got  me  interested  and  I  told  him  to 
draw  up  plans  for  a  poultry  plant.  When  he 
brought  them  to  me  I  thought  them  quite  too 
elaborate  and  so,  turning  over  his  paper,  I 
sketched  on  the  back  four  lines  enclosing  a  space 
of  about  twelve  by  twenty  feet.  I  proposed  that 
with  our  own  hands  we  should  build  the  first 
chicken  house  out  of  a  great  pile  of  refuse  lumber 
left  from  an  old  barn;  that  we  should  locate  it 
some  distance  away  from  the  other  buildings  at 
the  edge  of  a  little  wood.  I  warned  him  further- 
more that  if  he  let  that  poultry  house  become  dis- 
reputable, like  many  I  had  seen,  I  would  turn  out 
the  hens  and  burn  it  down,  lice  and  all. 

I  worked  with  him  until  the  building  was  en- 
closed and  then  told  him  to  put  in  any  kind  of 
chicken  fixings  he  liked  and  if  at  first  they  didn't 
suit,  tear  them  out  as  often  as  he  pleased,  for  the 
lumber  he  would  destroy  was  worth  nothing  to 


2 1 6  AUTOB IOGRAP  HY 

speak  of.  The  boy  experimented  on  himself  and 
the  chickens  during  the  remainder  of  his  college 
course  and  then  went  into  business  for  himself. 
Later  someone  discovered  that  that  enthusiastic 
Cornell  graduate  knew  a  lot  about  poultry  and 
had  a  faculty  of  stating  so  clearly  and  forcibly 
what  he  knew  that  he  could  convince  others.  And 
thus  it  was  that  Mr.  James  Rice  came  to  be  much 
sought  after  as  a  travelling  instructor  by  the 
Farmer's  Institute  management. 

Some  time  afterwards,  Mr.  George  Watson  — 
author  of  Farm  Poultry  (1901)  — who  was  also 
a  graduate  of  the  University,  was  employed  to 
assist  me  in  experimental  work  and  to  take  charge 
of  the  poultry.  The  work  went  on  so  satisfac- 
torily that  the  experimental  industry  had  to  be 
enlarged  by  building  another  house  out  of  the 
refuse  pile.  As  students  increased  other  colony 
houses  were  built,  one  each  year,  until  there  were 
half  a  dozen  or  more,  the  construction  work  being 
done  largely  by  students  in  the  regular  hours  ar- 
ranged for  farm  practice.  It  was  while  the  stu- 
dents, Mr.  Watson  and  I  were  building  the  third 
house,  I  think,  that  the  chairman  of  the  Executive 
Committee  drove  up  one  afternoon,  glanced  at 
us,  and  turned  and  drove  away  without  so  much 


THE  CHICKEN  BUSINESS  217 

as  passing  the  time  of  day.  As  it  was  the  first 
time  I  had  ever  seen  him  on  the  agricultural  part 
of  the  farm,  I  was  very  much  disturbed,  for  I  had 
not  asked  either  for  permission  to  build  nor  an  ap- 
propriation to  run,  a  poultry  plant.  The  fact  was, 
the  College  was  growing  so  slowly  that  I  deter- 
mined to  risk  something  to  develop  this  branch 
since  it  would  cost  so  little.  My  anxiety  was 
wasted,  however,  for  he  never  took  any  notice  of 
the  matter. 

Personally  I  had  little  to  do  with  the  Poultry 
Department  except  to  give  it  general  direction  and 
to  squeeze  the  inadequate  farm  appropriation 
enough  each  year  to  make  it  hatch  a  modest  chicken 
house  until  we  had  built  seven  of  them.  I  do  take 
credit,  however,  for  furnishing  that  zealous  Sopho- 
more with  his  opportunity  and  with  teaching  him 
to  begin  experiments  on  a  small  scale.  I  am  de- 
lighted to  learn  that  the  desire  for  instruction  in 
poultry  husbandry  has  so  far  outrun  the  facilities 
that  a  new  and  larger  plant  is  urgently  required 
and  is  likely  to  be  supplied  in  the  near  future.  I 
have  just  read  that  bills  have  been  introduced 
simultaneously  into  both  houses  of  the  New  York 
Legislature  to  appropriate  $90,000  for  the  con- 
struction and  equipment  of  a  poultry  husbandry 


2i  8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

building.  According  to  the  latest  report  that  I 
have  by  me  (1910),  James  Rice  is  now  the  head 
of  the  Poultry  Department  at  Cornell  and  has  1 67 
students  under  him.  So  much  can  enthusiasm  and 
energy  do  in  one  line  of  agriculture. 

EXPERIMENTATION  AND  INVESTIGATION 

About  1883  —  I  cannot  fix  the  exact  date  —  a 
meeting  was  called  by  President  White  to  discuss 
the  subject  of  establishing  an  agricultural  experi- 
ment station  at  Cornell.  There  were  present,  as 
I  now  recall,  the  President,  the  Honorable  J. 
Stanton  Gould,  Professor  G.  C.  Caldwell,  and  my- 
self. As  a  result  of  this  meeting  a  bill  was  drawn 
up,  soon  afterwards  passed  in  the  State  Legisla- 
ture without  opposition,  signed  by  Governor  Cor- 
nell, and  became  a  law.  The  bill  provided  that 
the  Legislature  should  appoint  three  men  to  decide 
upon  the  most  favorable  location  for  the  station. 
Before  we  at  Cornell  had  a  hint  of  what  was  being 
done,  the  Legislative  Committee  selected  a  farm 
near  Geneva,  at  the  foot  of  Seneca  Lake,  and  re- 
ported back  to  the  Legislature,  which  approved 
the  report.  It  was  a  sharp  political  move :  two  of 
the  committeemen  were  enemies  of  Cornell  and 


EXPERIMENTATION  AND  INVESTIGATION     219 

the  third  was  a  man  easily  influenced.  The  Gov- 
ernor always  blamed  us,  and  justly,  I  think,  for  not 
watching  the  appointment  of  the  committee  closely 
enough,  but  I  doubt  if  any  amount  of  watching 
would  have  secured  the  Station  for  Cornell  Uni- 
versity. We  had  not  enough  political  influence  at 
that  time  to  dictate  who  should  be  appointed  on 
the  committee.  We  should  have  foreseen  perhaps, 
what  would  be  likely  to  happen  and  have  given  the 
Governor  a  tip  so  that  he  would  not  sign  the  bill. 
But  all's  well  that  ends  well ;  and  time  has  shown 
that  there  is  ample  room  in  so  large,  populous  and 
diversified  a  State  as  New  York  for  two  stations. 
I  am  now  inclined  to  think  that  if  it  had  been 
located  at  Cornell  the  station  might  have  brought 
upon  us  more  criticism  than  the  University  already 
suffered.  Because  the  College  was  not  adminis- 
tered by  some  religious  denomination  and  because 
the  President  had  selected  a  corps  of  scientific 
lecturers  and  professors  who  valued  truth  more 
than  legend,  the  churches  were  violently  antagonis- 
tic. When  the  Press  announced  one  fall  that  a 
large  number  —  300,  I  think  —  had  entered  the 
Freshman  class,  a  leading  denominational  journal 
declared  that  300  "  fresh  recruits  for  Satan"  had 
entered  this  "  Godless  college."  Another  journal 


220  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

called  it  "  a  school  where  hayseeds  and  greasy 
mechanics  were  taught  to  hoe  potatoes,  pitch 
manure  and  be  dry  nurses  to  steam  engines."  We 
were  even  dubbed  a  "  Godless,  fresh-water  college 
planted  in  Ezra  Cornell's  potato  patch,"  by  the 
students  of  one  of  the  older  New  England  Col- 
leges. These  and  many  other  things  of  the  same 
sort  were  hard  to  bear,  for  at  that  time  we  were 
not  sure  that  we  should  laugh  last 

Although  we  had  lost  the  experiment  station 
we  went  on  with  research  work  and  published  our 
results  in  three  good-sized  bulletins  (1879-1885), 
the  expense  of  printing  being  borne  by  that  gener- 
ous and  sympathetic  woman,  the  late  Jennie  Mc- 
Graw-Fiske,  who  was  deeply  concerned  with  the 
welfare  of  the  University. 


THE  .FEDERAL  EXPERIMENT  STATION   AT 
CORNELL 

In  March,  1887,  Congress  passed  a  general  act 
establishing  agricultural  experiment  stations 
throughout  the  country.  This  act  provided 
$15,000  annually  for  each  State  and  Territory  with 
which  to  conduct  investigations  in  agriculture  and 
to  publish  a  detailed  report  of  them.  The  first 
question  to  be  solved  in  most  of  the  States  was 


FEDERAL  EXPERIMENT  STATION  CORNELL    221 

whether  it  was  best  to  merge  the  station  in  the 
agricultural  college  or  to  establish  a  distinct  or- 
ganization not  vitally  connected  with  it.  At  Cor- 
nell it  was  agreed  that  no  vigorous  experimental 
department  could  be  established  and  maintained 
on  an  annual  income  of  $15,000  without  the  aid  of 
the  College  staff  and  the  use  of  its  equipment.  So 
the  Federal  Station  was  made  a  part  of  the  Agri- 
cultural College. 

As  to  the  directorship  of  the  Station,  President 
Adams  agreed  with  me  that  this  heavy  duty  should 
not  be  added  to  the  varied  responsibilities  I  al- 
ready had  and  he  therefore  recommended  that  a 
director  should  be  appointed  who  should  give  all 
his  time  to  investigation;  and  that  the  assistant 
investigators  should  also  be  instructors,  giving,  for 
economy's  sake,  a  part  of  their  time  to  college 
work  and  a  part  to  research.  The  Executive  Com- 
mittee of  the  Board  of  Trustees  agreed  with  us 
at  first  and  appointed  Major  E.  A.  Alvord  director 
of  the  Station,  who  declined  the  position. 

After  searching  the  country  over  for  another 
available  candidate,  President  Adams  recom- 
mended me  for  the  office  and  the  Executive  Com- 
mittee appointed  me.  I  declined  at  first  to  accept 
these  additional  duties;  and  Mr.  Henry  W.  Sage, 


222  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

the  Chairman,  told  me  I  was  making  the  mistake 
of  my  life.  Finally  and  with  great  reluctance,  I 
accepted  the  position  for  that  year.  But  Mr. 
Sage  was  right,  for  two  directors  could  not  very 
long  have  cooperated  peacefully  in  using  the  same 
plant  and  in  employing  the  same  men  to  conduct 
investigations  under  one  chief  and  to  give  instruc- 
tion under  another  —  any  more  than  two  queen 
bees  can  remain  long  in  the  same  hive.  So,  again, 
to  return  to  my  old  metaphor,  I  was  saved  by 
President  Adams  and  Mr.  Sage  from  a  head-on 
collision. 

As  I  remember  it,  I  was  made  Director  in  May 
and  if  we  did  not  use  the  first  appropriation  by 
June  3Oth  of  the  current  year,  it  would  lapse  into 
the  Treasury  of  the  United  States.  To  invest  so 
large  an  amount  judiciously  in  a  technical  equip- 
ment was  no  easy  task.  There  were  all  sorts  of 
things  to  be  purchased,  some  in  foreign  countries, 
and  the  bills  must  be  vised  by  the  Director  and  ap- 
proved by  the  Executive  Committee  by  the  last 
day  of  June.  Professor  Comstock  made  his  plans 
for  an  Insectary  —  the  first  ever  built  —  between 
two  days,  I  think,  and  got  his  bills  in  on  time. 
One  of  our  Professors  who  was  then  in  Europe 
was  instructed  by  cablegram  to  buy  certain  ap- 
pliances which  could  not  be  had  at  home,  and  the 


FEDERAL  EXPERIMENT  STATION  CORNELL    223 

bills  arrived  in  time  to  be  included  in  the  budget, 
although  the  articles  did  not  come  till  later. 

You  would  naturally  think  that  when  this  first 
appropriation  was  expended  in  appliances  the  rush 
would  be  over;  but  the  Congressional  Act  pro- 
vided  that  an  annual  report  must  be  made  which 
must  contain  not  only  an  itemized  account  of  ex- 
penditures and  receipts  but  also  a  report  of  the 
progress  of  the  work  in  hand.  I  turned,  there- 
fore, to  material  on  hand  which  had  not  yet  been 
published  in  the  bulletins  previously  mentioned. 
This  and  some  other  research  stuff  that  we  had  in 
hand  was  prepared  for  publication  and  handed  to 
the  President.  I  told  him  that  I  knew  absolutely 
nothing  about  matters  of  printing  and  publication 
and  he  advised  me  to  put  the  matter  in  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Church,  one  of  the  members  of  the  pub- 
lishing firm  of  Andrus  &  Church,  in  Ithaca,  who 
had  good  taste  in  such  matters.  I  did  so,  giving 
him  no  other  directions  than  that  the  report  must 
be  a  first-class  job  all  round.  In  the  subsequent 
bulletins  these  requirements  have  held  good 
through  all  the  years  and  their  general  appear- 
ance remains  much  the  same  as  at  the  beginning. 
Up  to  1903,  the  date  of  my  retirement,  there  had 
been  published  by  the  Experiment  Station  fifteen 


224  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Annual  Reports,  comprising  6,326  pages  of 
printed  matter.  As  I  look  back  over  them,  they 
testify  to  the  success  which  the  Station  met  with 
from  the  first.  Although  at  the  end  of  the  first 
year  I  gave  in  my  resignation,  the  President  told 
me  that  the  Trustees  were  more  than  satisfied  and 
that  they  hoped  the  question  of  a  Director  would 
not  again  be  raised.  Thus  I  became  the  permanent 
head  of  it,  a  position  which  I  retained  until  my 
departure  from  the  University. 

It  was  not  customary  to  embody  an  account  of 
our  failures  in  these  reports  but  one  of  them  may 
be  worth  recording  here.  As  I  have  stated  before, 
Dr.  Law  and  I  made  several  attempts  to  eradicate 
tuberculosis  from  the  dairy  herd.  The  disease  was 
very  imperfectly  understood  at  that  time,  so  I 
offered  to  build  a  small,  sanitary  stable  at  some 
distance  from  other  buildings,  in  which  to  conduct 
experiments  in  bovine  tuberculosis. 

I  had  seen  for  the  first  time  while  on  a  visit  to 
a  large  potato  raiser,  Mr.  T.  B.  Terry  of  Ohio, 
large  hollow  vitrified  bricks.  They  were  about 
eight  inches  square  and  perhaps  two  feet  long,  and 
I  thought  they  would  exactly  suit  my  purpose.  So 
a  carload  of  them  was  ordered  and  with  them  the 
erection  of  a  double-compartment  stable  was  be- 


FEDERAL  EXPERIMENT  STATION  CORNELL    225 

gun.  When  it  was  just  about  ready  for  the  roof 
timbers,  President  White  stopped  the  building 
because  he  feared  that  the  flies  from  this  veterinary 
laboratory  would  reach  his  barn  and  house  and 
carry  the  germs  of  this  dreaded  disease  with  them. 
So  this  second  attempt  to  build  a  veterinary  labora- 
tory came  to  naught  and  after  a  year  or  two  Pro- 
fessor Bailey  tore  it  down  and  used  those  hollow 
bricks,  on  which  I  had  counted  so  much,  as  founda- 
tion material  for  his  forcing  houses.  It  is  amus- 
ing to  remember  in  this  connection  that  the  large 
buildings  of  the  Veterinary  College  were  later 
placed  as  close  to  the  President's  house  on 
the  south  as  my  little  veterinary  house  had  been 
on  the  east —  and  thereby  hangs  a  tale  —  but  it  is 
not  for  me  to  tell ! 

It  was  our  custom  to  conduct  simple  investiga- 
tions away  from  the  College  on  the  farms  of  men 
who  were  willing  to  cooperate  with  us,  and  an  ex- 
tensive experiment  in  sugar-beet  culture  was  so 
conducted  under  a  State  appropriation.  Some  par- 
ties in  Binghamton  became  interested  in  beet  cul- 
ture and  as  there  were  no  data  at  that  time  as  to 
yield  or  quality  of  beets  raised  in  New  York,  we 
gladly  took  up  this  line  of  investigation.  For  three 
consecutive  years  we  procured  seeds  of  improved 

8 


226  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

varieties,  mailed  them  with  full  printed  directions 
as  to  culture,  harvesting  and  recording  of  facts, 
to  one  or  two  hundred  farmers  whom  we  had  in- 
terested in  the  work.  Each  year  we  had  from 
two  to  five  hundred  samples  of  beets  to  analyze. 
At  the  end  of  the  first  year  a  beet-sugar  company 
was  formed  at  Binghamton,  works  were  erected 
and  equipped  and  after  the  harvest  of  the  second 
season  of  our  experiments,  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
taking  my  class  to  the  works  to  see  the  first  sugar 
ever  made  from  beets — in  a  large  way  —  in  the 
State  of  New  York. 

While  the  land  about  Binghamton  produced 
beets  of  a  high  sugar  content,  it  was  not  such  as  to 
make  beet  growing  profitable,  much  of  it  being  too 
clayey  or  too  stoney ;  it  was  difficult  to  get  enough 
cheap  foreign  labor —  for  the  American  does  not 
take  kindly  to  farming  on  his  knees  in  weeding  and 
harvest  time.  For  this  and  other  reasons  the  fac- 
tory was  afterward  moved  to  one  of  the  western 
States.  But  our  labor  was  not  in  vain  for  it  fur- 
nished valuable  information  not  only  to  the  farm- 
ers but  to  the  Station  staff,  while  putting  us  in 
friendly  communication  with  the  most  progressive 
farmers  of  that  portion  of  the  State. 


STATE  EXPERIMENT  STATION  AT  GENEVA    227 


THE  STATE  EXPERIMENT  STATION  AT 
GENEVA 

When  the  Federal  Experiment  Station  was  es- 
tablished at  Cornell  only  forty  miles  from  the 
State  Station  at  Geneva,  it  was  naturally  supposed 
that  there  would  be  some  friction  between  them. 
Dr.  E.  L.  Sturtevant  was  chosen  to  be  the  first 
Director  of  the  Geneva  Station  and  as  he  was  a 
reasonable  and  at  the  same  time,  liberal-minded 
man,  our  relations  during  his  incumbency  were 
most  friendly,  in  spite  of  the  antagonism  of  some 
of  the  members  of  his  Board  of  Control  who 
threatened  to  absorb  us.  The  second  Director  of 
the  Geneva  Station  was  Dr.  Jacob  Collier,  who  had 
attracted  some  notice  by  his  advocacy  of  the  es- 
tablishment of  a  factory  for  manufacturing  sugar 
from  the  sorghum  plant  (andropogan  sorghum). 
He  certainly  did  much  valuable  chemical  work 
along  this  line  and  became  so  enthusiastic  over  it 
—  so  I  have  been  told — that  the  Board  of  Con- 
trol at  Geneva  exacted  a  promise  from  him  that  he 
would  dismount  from  his  hobby  if  he  was  chosen 
Director  of  the  Station. 

I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  taking  my  class  to 
inspect  the  work  of  this  Station  once  or  twice  a 
year,  but  soon  after  Dr.  Collier  took  charge  the 


228  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

practice  was  given  up  as  the  Station  atmosphere 
had  become  unfriendly.  When  it  became  evident 
that  Dr.  Collier  would  have  to  give  up  his  place 
because  of  failing  health,  I  was  invited  to  succeed 
him.  The  outlook  at  Cornell  was  very  discourag- 
ing at  this  time  and  I  presume  I  had  expressed  my 
dissatisfaction  to  someone  in  an  unguarded 
moment.  At  any  rate  two  members  of  the  Board 
of  Control  at  Geneva  made  me  a  visit  and  urged 
me  to  accept  the  State  Directorship,  promising 
everything  that  could  reasonably  be  expected.  I 
confess  I  was  greatly  tempted  to  resign  from  Cor- 
nell but  I  finally  decided  to  decline  the  offer  be- 
cause I  felt  that  I  had  started  out  to  attain  one 
great  object — the  laying  of  the  foundations  of  a 
great  agricultural  college  —  and  that  to  abandon 
it  because  it  was  more  difficult  than  I  had  antici- 
pated, would  be  cowardly. 

Dr.  William  H.  Jordan  was  then  appointed 
Director  and  a  most  fortunate  selection  it  was. 
On  taking  charge  he  found,  hidden  away  in  a 
closet,  copies  of  a  little  circular  containing  an  at- 
tack on  the  Federal  Station  and  the  College  of 
Agriculture  at  Cornell  which,  for  some  unex- 
plained reason,  had  not  been  sent  out.  After  this 
I  had  but  one  serious  contention  with  the  Geneva 


AGRICULTURAL  EDUCATION  229 

Station  and  that  arose  when  the  State  Station  made 
a  demand  for  a  part  of  our  annual  Federal  appro- 
priation of  $15,000  in  order  that  the  State  Station 
might  secure  thereby,  the  franking  privilege  for 
their  bulletins.  The  matter  was  finally  amicably 
adjusted  by  a  legal  enactment  which  gave  to  the 
State  Station  10  per  cent,  of  our  appropriation  — 
fifteen  hundred  dollars  annually  —  thus  permitting 
it  to  send  out  printed  mail  free  of  postage. 

AGRICULTURAL  EDUCATION 

In  the  seventies  it  was  generally  believed  that 
an  agricultural  college  could  not  be  successfully 
grafted  on  to  a  university  and  the  evidence 
seemed  to  prove  it;  but  when  I  looked  at  all  sides 
of  the  question  I  was  convinced  that  a  college  of 
agriculture  could  never  take  a  dignified  place  in 
the  world  of  higher  education  unless  its  entrance 
requirements  and  its  courses  of  study  were  made 
equal  in  length  and  in  severity  —  though  not 
necessarily  the  same  in  kind  —  to  those  prevailing 
in  the  colleges  of  Science  and  of  the  Arts.  As  yet 
the  agricultural  colleges  made  no  such  require- 
ments and  were  not  likely  to  for  many  years  to 
come. 


230  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

I  did  not  then  fully  realize  the  difficult  position 
in  which  the  first  graduates  of  the  colleges  were 
placed.  The  farmers  and  the  legislators  who 
voted  appropriations  called  loudly  for  these  col- 
leges to  turn  out  educated  farmers  at  a  time  when 
any  tyro  with  a  little  capital  could  go  west  and,  by 
gently  tickling  the  rich,  virgin  prairies,  secure  an 
abundant  harvest  without  any  education  whatever. 
The  agricultural  graduate  was,  therefore,  usually 
compelled  to  find  employment  in  some  other  field 
or  else  compete  with  unskilled  labor.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  the  graduates  of  these  colleges  came 
in  touch  with  the  graduates  of  the  colleges  of 
Science  and  the  Arts,  they  could  but  realize  their 
lack  of  general  culture  as  judged  by  the  world's 
standards.  Some  of  the  more  far-seeing  graduates 
amplified  their  studies  and  in  time  reached  posi- 
tions of  distinction,  but  I  am  sure  that  they  re- 
gretted that  the  foundations  of  their  education 
had  not  been  laid  deeper  and  broader.  I  could 
sympathize  with  them  in  their  humiliation  because 
I  had  toiled  up  by  the  same  difficult  way.  All 
these  things  I  began  to  realize  dimly  while  I  was 
trying  to  determine  the  direction  which  the  agri- 
cultural courses  should  take  in  order  to  lay  a 
foundation  for  the  College  at  Cornell  which  should 


AGRICULTURAL  EDUCATION  231 

not  be  inferior  in  any  respect  —  when  suitably 
maintained  —  to  any  other  in  the  Cornell  group. 

Almost  from  the  first  I  desired  a  farm  labora- 
tory. In  all  of  the  technical  departments  of  the 
University  I  saw  men  trying  to  learn  how  to  do 
things  by  doing  them.  Although  I  had  made  from 
the  first  considerable  use  of  portions  of  the  small 
college  farm  for  this  purpose,  the  attempt  to  give 
students  anything  like  skill  or  first-hand  knowledge 
by  illustrations  on  such  restricted  space,  was  most 
unsatisfactory.  Three  times  I  secured  options  on 
adjacent  farms  and  recommended  their  purchase 
to  the  Trustees  —  only  to  meet  with  refusal.  The 
Board  had  to  be  differently  constituted  before 
more  land  would  be  granted  for  strictly  educa- 
tional purposes. 

At  one  time  I  nearly  completed  an  arrangement 
with  a  neighboring  farmer  who  was  childless,  to 
give  the  use  of  his  farm  to  the  College,  the  Uni- 
versity agreeing  to  pay  a  stipulated  rental  for  it 
as  long  as  he  or  his  wife  should  live.  At  their 
death  the  farm  was  to  go  to  the  University  as  a 
gift.  On  this  occasion  my  hopes  ran  high,  for  here 
on  this  farm  —  which  had  two  sizable  houses  on  it 
—  I  could  carry  out  my  cherished  plans.  I  in- 
tended to  arrange  the  courses  of  study  so  that  the 


232  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

senior  work  at  the  College  would  be  completed 
early  in  April,  at  which  time  the  entire  senior  class 
would  be  taken  to  the  farm,  together  with  a  suit- 
able number  of  instructors  in  farm  practice,  and 
a  few  domestics  to  care  for  the  farm  houses 
where  they  would  live.  Here  with  a  small  dairy, 
tools,  implements  and  workstock,  the  ordinary 
farm  operations  (except  the  harvesting  of  corn, 
wheat,  etc.)  could  be  carried  on  in  a  practical, 
systematic  way.  The  students  could  be  required  to 
do  continuous,  productive  labor  long  enough  to 
learn  the  meaning  of  a  day's  work.  I  believed 
that  this  sort  of  training  would  greatly  improve 
their  judgment  and  would  give  them  a  better  hold 
on  the  complexities  and  difficulties  of  farm  life. 

But  all  this  came  to  naught  because  I  could  not 
convert  the  authorities  to  my  scheme;  and  I  was 
compelled  to  recommend  for  graduation  for  many 
years  students  who  had  no  acquaintance  whatever 
with  farm  practice.  At  the  present  time  it  is  per- 
fectly apparent  that  the  technical  departments 
throughout  the  country  which  have  been  able  to 
give  thorough  training  in  doing  things  are  over- 
run with  students  and  have  attained  wide  and  de- 
servedly high  reputations.  And  yet,  even  now,  in 
certain  lines  of  agricultural  instruction,  almost  no 


AGRICULTURAL  EDUCATION  233 

effort  is  being  made  to  give  students  a  working 
knowledge  of  the  operations  of  the  farm.  Al- 
though agricultural  students  are  now,  in  many 
cases,  required  to  know  the  handicraft  of  farming 
when  they  enter  college,  they  seldom  have  enough 
practical  knowledge  to  enable  them  to  assimilate 
the  scientific  training  which  they  receive  in  College. 

Eight  years  in  the  Primary  and  Grammar 
schools  and  four  years  in  the  High  School  are  now 
required  to  fit  pupils  for  the  University  and  for 
the  best  agricultural  colleges.  Even  if  the  boy  is 
a  farmer's  son  and  has  a  disposition  to  learn 
manual  things,  there  is  not  enough  time  left  out- 
side of  school  hours  nor  is  the  preparatory  student 
mature  enough  to  see  their  bearing  upon  the 
sciences  which  he  is  to  study  in  college.  Nature 
study  may  very  properly  be  taught  in  the  schools 
but  not  the  farm  handicrafts. 

The  agricultural  colleges  must  take  one  of  two 
courses:  they  must  either  require  students  to  take 
practical  examinations  in  farming  before  entering 
college  or  they  must  provide  the  means  whereby 
they  can  acquire  in  college  enough  practical  knowl- 
edge to  save  them  from  being  the  laughing  stock 
of  the  unlettered  farmer.  The  first  seems  to  me 
undesirable  even  if  the  schools  and  the  farmers 


234  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

together  were  willing  to  attempt  it.  There  is, 
therefore,  no  way  but  to  provide  for  this  practical 
instruction  in  the  college  itself.  It  is  unjust  to 
the  boy  graduate  of  twenty-two  and  misleading  to 
the  public  to  give  a  college  degree  which  predicates 
a  knowledge  of  rural  affairs,  when  the  instructors 
all  know  that  the  first  attempt  that  the  student 
makes  to  embody  his  learning  in  visible,  remunera- 
tive results,  will  almost  certainly  fail.  Indeed,  he 
may  be  so  humiliated  that  his  college  enthusiasm 
and  his  ideals  of  a  more  intelligent  rural  life  will 
be  shattered  and  perhaps  for  life. 

General  agriculture  is  now  the  only  subject  in 
which  students  are  not  required  to  become  fairly 
skillful  before  they  are  expected  to  take  up  its 
practice.  The  students  of  chemistry,  of  mechanic 
arts,  of  civil  engineering,  of  the  law  —  all  do  over 
and  over  again  as  nearly  as  possible  the  very  things 
that  they  will  have  to  do  when  they  go  out  to  take 
up  their  chosen  calling.  What  use  would  a  rail- 
way have  for  the  graduate  of  a  college  of  Civil 
Engineering  who  had  not  progressed  farther  along 
the  applied  side  of  his  profession  than  to  be  able 
to  carry  a  Gunter's  chain?  The  railways  demand 
men  who  can  do  things,  real  things  that  are  too 
difficult  for  untrained  men,  and  the  stress  is  laid 
on  the  doing  and  not  on  the  theory. 


AGRICULTURAL  EDUCATION  235 

In  like  manner  the  landowner  does  not  want  an 
agricultural  graduate  who  cannot  harness  a  span 
of  horses,  plow  a  furrow,  pack  a  barrel  of  apples 
or  trim  a  tree  correctly;  nor  one  who  hitches  a 
driving  horse  to  a  post  with  the  line  without  first 
taking  it  out  of  the  turrets.  Now  that  the  agri- 
cultural colleges  have  grown  relatively  rich  and 
strong  and  are  no  longer  manned  by  pioneers  but 
by  able,  trained  and  experienced  instructors,  it  is 
little  less  than  criminal  to  graduate  students  who 
are  careless  in  the  use  of  figures  and  words ;  who 
cannot  make  out  a  balance  sheet  embodying  the 
results  of  the  operations  of  a  farm;  who  cannot 
dig  a  post  hole  in  the  right  place  nor  dig  it  with 
the  least  possible  labor  nor  set  three  posts  in  a  line ; 
nor  bore  a  hole  straight  in  a  timber  without  a  plum- 
bob.  Some  men,  I  fear  many,  have  been  grad- 
uated, whom  you  would  not  trust  to  harrow  the 
potato  patch  for  fear  they  would  ruin  a  span  of 
horses  by  getting  it  on  the  harrow  or  by  getting 
the  harrow  on  top  of  the  span. 

The  way  to  learn  one  part  of  agriculture,  and 
a  most  important  part,  is  to  do  agriculture.  If 
students  object  to  the  toil  of  learning  the 
fundamentals — without  remuneration — then  turn 
them  out  to  grass  and  let  them  graze  within  the 
pasture  of  any  other  college  which  will  adopt  a 


236  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

maverick.  Since  coming  to  California  I  have  seen 
two  agricultural  college  graduates  occupying  hon- 
orable and  responsible  positions  and  otherwise 
able  men  in  some  directions,  put  to  shame  because 
they  were  deficient  in  the  basic  knowledge  of  their 
calling.  In  the  early  days,  the  agricultural  stu- 
dents were  generally  directly  from  the  farm  and 
while  the  colleges  were  blazing  the  way  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  wink  at  their  deficiencies.  Al- 
though I  myself  was  one  of  the  pioneers  I  did 
everything  in  my  power  to  bridge  the  gap  between 
practice  and  science  but  always  came  short  of 
doing  so,  for  one  man  cannot  be  all  things  to  all 
men  in  agriculture  any  more  than  in  other  callings. 
In  some  lines  instruction  has  been  greatly  im- 
proved since  my  time;  for  instance,  students  in 
dairy  husbandry  learn  how  to  make  butter  and 
cheese  by  making  butter  and  cheese;  they  know 
when  a  can  is  clean  by  making  it  clean,  while  for- 
merly we  talked  about  dairying  in  the  class-room. 
But  in  general  the  agricultural  colleges  are  still 
reprehensibly  negligent  in  allowing  students  to 
graduate  who  are  top-heavy  with  science.  For 
this  lack  of  practical  dexterity  sometimes  the  ex- 
cuse is  made  that  four  years  at  college  is  not  suffi- 
cient time  for  students  to  acquire  a  moderate  pro- 
ficiency in  those  studies  which  are  chiefly  useful 


AGRICULTURAL  EDUCATION  237 

in  training  men  to  think  deeply,  logically  and  con- 
structively and  to  express  themselves  clearly,  much 
less  to  acquire  practical  dexterity.  There  is  just 
enough  of  truth  in  this  to  mislead  and  its  fallacy 
will  be  made  clear  in  a  later  discussion  of  the 
courses  of  study. 

More  and  more  it  is  becoming  apparent  that 
there  should  be  auxiliary  agricultural  schools  of 
lower  requirements  than  those  which  the  colleges 
exact.  Large  numbers  of  young  people  are  now 
desiring  to  study  agriculture  who  have  neither  the 
inclination  nor  the  time  to  take  a  four-year  col- 
legiate course.  There  is  no  provision  for  giving 
technical  instruction  in  agriculture  in  the  public 
schools  and  never  should  be;  though  there  are 
many  simple  things  which  are  most  interesting  and 
important  to  know,  no  matter  what  station  pupils 
may  afterward  fill,  and  which  should  be  taught 
in  the  public  school.  They  might  be  called 
"  kindergarten  science  "  or,  preferably,  by  that 
all-embracing  and  appropriate  name  already  in 
use,  "  Nature  study."  Every  American  child  has 
a  right  to  good  instruction  along  this  line  but  to 
call  this  general  nature-information,  agriculture,  is 
utterly  misleading.  The  public  school  curriculum 
is  already  overloaded  and  agriculture  proper  has 


238  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

little  to  do  with  the  lives  of  a  majority  of  the 
pupils ;  but  Nature  study  is  a  cultural  study  which 
develops  the  child's  normal  instinct  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  objects  by  which  it  is  sur- 
rounded. 

As  the  schools  are  now  conducted,  the  tendency 
is  to  stunt  and  suppress  this  fundamental  char- 
acteristic of  all  healthy  children.  The  complaint 
is  frequently  made  that  the  schools  educate  chil- 
dren away  from  agriculture ;  the  fact  is,  the  tend- 
ency is  to  develop  the  conventional  and  the  arti- 
ficial instead  of  the  fundamentally  natural.  Agri- 
culture happens  to  suffer  most  because  farming  is 
a  business  that  has  most  to  do  with  the  forces  of 
nature  which  produce  life  and  growth  and  indis- 
pensable commodities —  a  business  founded  on  the 
sciences.  For  a  long  time  there  was  a  gap  between 
the  public  schools  and  the  colleges  filled  —  in  New 
York  and  in  other  of  the  older  States  —  by  acade- 
mies of  a  high  grade.  The  large  number  of 
private  schools  which  prosper  because  they  under- 
take to  fit  pupils  for  entrance  to  college,  indicates 
that  the  gap  has  not  been  satisfactorily  bridged  by 
the  public  High  School.  Considered  from  the 
needs  of  the  rural  population,  the  gap  is  a  chasm. 
Now  the  attempt  is  being  made  to  organize  the 


AGRICULTURAL  EDUCATION  239 

public  schools  so  that  there  will  be  no  gap  between 
them  and  the  colleges;  and  the  auxiliary  agricul- 
tural schools  and  the  agricultural  High  School 
should  close  the  gap  between  the  public  schools 
and  the  agricultural  college.  If  agricultural 
schools,  as  many  and  as  efficient  as  the  old-fash- 
ioned academies,  were  scattered  throughout  the 
States,  they  would  do  much  to  solve  many  vexed 
country  problems;  for  it  would  mean  giving  to 
the  rural  communities  an  opportunity  to  acquire 
such  training  of  mind  and  hand  as  would  fit  them 
reasonably  well  for  making  the  most  of  their  re- 
sources. 

In  the  earlier  days  there  was  no  question  as  to 
accepting  work  done  in  the  academies  for  entrance 
to  the  college,  so  far  as  it  might  go;  but  now  all 
work  completed  in  the  High  School  is  not  ac- 
cepted for  entrance  and  a  discrimination  is  made 
in  the  work  of  the  different  High  Schools,  some 
being  accepted  and  some  refused.  This  may  be 
a  cheap  way  to  bring  badly  managed  schools  up  to 
the  standard  but  it  is  done  at  the  expense  of  the 
prospective  college  student  instead  of  the  State. 
It  should  be  the  business  of  the  State  to  bring  the 
High  Schools  up  to  so  nearly  uniform  a  standard 
that  those  who  present  themselves  at  the  college 


240  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

would  stand  on  an  equal  footing,  no  matter  from 
what  school  they  come.  As  to  private  fitting 
schools,  perhaps  there  is  no  better  way  than  for 
the  college  to  inspect  them  and  then  place  them 
on  the  accepted  or  non-accepted  list. 

In  such  a  system,  the  agricultural  academies 
should  be  under  the  control  of  a  Board  composed 
of  the  faculty  of  the  State  Agricultural  College 
and  the  principals  of  the  agricultural  schools ;  who 
should  have  the  power  to  formulate  rules  for 
entrance,  courses  of  study  and  practice  and  deter- 
mine the  kind  and  amount  of  work  which  would 
be  received  at  the  college  towards  fulfilling  the 
requirements  for  entrance  and  for  graduation. 
The  academies  might  —  I  think  should  —  require 
the  payment  of  a  small  tuition  fee;  for  if  the 
academy  lays  as  much  stress  on  the  art  of  farm- 
ing as  it  should,  it  will  be  very  expensive  if  the 
number  of  students  is  restricted  as  it  should  be. 

The  fact  is,  we  are  still  laying  the  stress  on 
numbers  instead  of  on  efficient  instruction. 
"  Walks  and  Talks,"  such  as  I  gave  forty  years 
ago  at  the  Iowa  College  and  later  at  Cornell 
are  useful  but  they  are  only  second-hand  work; 
and  no  teacher  can  successfully  handle  more  than 
half  a  score  of  students  at  a  time  when  it  comes 


AGRICULTURAL  EDUCATION  241 

to  teaching  the  art  of  farming,  and  one  student 
may  sometimes  prove  to  be  a  large  class. 

I  think  too,  that  it  will  be  found  that  most  stu- 
dents would  prefer  to  learn  farming  at  an  academy 
rather  than  at  College  and  I  am  certain  that  it 
would  be  better  for  them  to  do  so.  Supposing  a 
prospective  college  student  is  somewhat  deficient 
in  the  entrance  requirements;  what  better  place 
than  the  agricultural  academy  in  the  quiet  country 
in  which  to  make  up  deficiencies  and  obtain  a  slight 
knowledge  of  farm  practice?  For  the  necessary 
subjects  only  a  few  teachers  would  be  required 
in  each  academy.  We  already  have  many  teachers 
who  have  experience  and  proved  ability  in  our 
High  Schools  for  every  subject  except  agriculture 
—  all  that  is  needed  is  skill  in  selecting  them  and 
that  should  be  found  among  the  colleges. 

I  have  just  read  an  excellent  address  by  Presi- 
dent Raymond  Pearson,  of  Iowa,  given  when  he 
was  President  of  the  New  York  Agricultural  So- 
ciety and  Commissioner  of  Agriculture ;  and  I  take 
the  liberty  of  making  quotations  and  discussing  it 
because  he  was  formerly  one  of  my  students  and 
because  he  is  a  leader  in  agricultural  progress. 
His  clear  insight  is  very  refreshing: 

"  Our  agricultural  problem  today  is  more  than  any- 
thing else  a  financial  one.  .  .  .  The  cheerless 


242  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

farm  home  is  supposed  by  some  to  be  the  cause  of  lack 
of  interest  in  country  life,  but  it  has  been  demon- 
strated in  hundreds  of  homes  that  good  cheer  and 
abundant  comforts  in  the  form  of  improved  houses 
with  modern  facilities,  lawns,  and  even  automobiles 
come  quickly,  when  the  farmers  are  financially  suc- 
cessful." 

Pointing  out  that  the  study  of  agriculture  has 
become  highly  popular,  he  says : 

"  In  this  State  there  are  at  least  twenty-one  different 
kinds  of  agencies  "  (and  two  more  to  be  added  soon) 
"  working  for  the  advancement  of  agricultural  interests, 
chiefly  by  making  known  better  methods.  .  .  .  No 
two  of  these  schools  are  alike  either  in  details  of 
schedules  or  management." 

To  a  pioneer  this  alacrity  to  climb  on  the  farm- 
ers' band-wagon  is  amusing.  There  are  many  who 
want  to  ride  and  are  climbing  in  over  the  tail- 
board, now  that  the  crop  is  ready  to  harvest  Pro- 
fessor Pearson  goes  on  to  say  that  there  are  in 
New  York  alone  twenty  institutions  for  agricul- 
tural promotion  supported  wholly  or  in  part  by  the 
State,  and  two  altogether  supported  by  the  Federal 
Government.  This  tremendous  and  expensive 
equipment  is  broken  up  into  fragments  and  each 
is  being  used,  largely  irrespective  of  the  others,  to 
solve  one  of  three  greatest  problems  of  the  age. 


AGRICULTURAL  EDUCATION  243 

And  certainly  of  these  three  —  War,  Drunken- 
ness and  Bread  —  Bread  is  fundamentally  most 
important. 

The  inertia  which  had  to  be  overcome  in  earlier 
days  has  been  transformed  into  resistless  energy 
and  the  time  has  come  in  New  York  to  lay  aside 
all  jealousies,  all  bickerings  as  to  men  and  locali- 
ties, that  these  fragmentary  efforts  may  be  coordi- 
nated; for  if  this  is  not  speedily  done,  the  attempt 
to  wrest  support  for  all  of  them  from  the  State 
will  create  such  antagonism  as  will  destroy  the 
weaker  ones  and  cause  the  stronger  to  spend  their 
energy  chiefly  in  the  political  struggle  for  exist- 
ence. In  recent  years  at  Albany  there  have  been 
signs  that  this  destructive  competition  is  only  re- 
strained by  the  wisdom  of  a  few  leaders. 

Commissioner  Pearson  further  says : 

"  The  exceptional  educational  facilities  (in  New 
York)  including  the  common  school  system,  are  be- 
lieved to  be  the  best  in  the  world." 

But  these  schools  of  which  New  Yorkers  are 
justly  proud,  are  not  left  to  go  as  they  please  but 
are  carefully  coordinated  into  one  logical,  sym- 
metrical whole  by  a  small  body  of  able  men.  Un- 
til agricultural  education  is  organized  and  directed 
in  a  similar  manner  no  one  will  be  able  to  say  that 


244  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

the  Empire  State  has  the  best  system  of  agricul- 
tural education  in  the  world.  It  should  not  be  long 
before  that  could  be  truthfully  said  of  a  State  so 
bountifully  supplied  with  noble  streams  and 
forests,  arable  soils  and  salubrious  climate;  and 
with  a  population  of  intelligent  people  possessing 
unbounded  means  for  carrying  on  commerce, 
manufacture  and  trade,  and  for  producing  the 
great  abundance  of  commodities  which  make  them 
possible. 

Dean  L.  H.  Bailey  has  said  that  practically  half 
of  New  York  State  is  still  in  woods,  swamps  and 
waste  —  a  conservative  estimate.  Add  to  this  the 
possibility  of  doubling  the  yield  per  acre  and  we 
have  a  possible  output  from  rural  endeavor  only  a 
little  short  of  $1,000,000,000  annually.  And 
this  too,  figured  on  the  prices  received  and  the 
quantities  of  products  produced  as  long  ago  as 
1899.  This  work  lies  at  the  very  door  of  the 
agricultural  college,  the  academies  and  the  other 
agencies  mentioned  by  Professor  Pearson.  One 
of  the  pioneers  in  agriculture  has  predicted,  I  be- 
lieve, that  it  will  not  take  more  than  fifty  years  to 
reach  the  billion-dollar  mark.  In  fifty  years  of 
my  life  I  have  seen  as  great  change  and  advance- 
ment in  the  means  of  communication  and  transpor- 
tation, and  in  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  the 


AGRICULTURAL  EDUCATION  245 

home,  as  will  have  to  be  made  in  the  production  of 
animals  and  plants  to  reach  the  mark  which  has 
been  set  above. 

The  farmers  ask  the  trained  experts  to  teach 
them  how  to  make  $2  drop  into  their  pockets 
where  only  $i  dropped  in  1899 — they  want  to 
take  their  turn  at  riding,  for  the  men  who  ride 
have  always  led  and  ruled  the  world.  So  long 
as  the  world  sat  down  to  a  good  cheap  breakfast, 
furnished  by  the  farmer  at  less  than  the  cost  of 
production,  it  turned  to  the  stock  and  bond  sales 
and  the  reports  of  the  clearing  houses  of  the 
previous  day  for  a  measure  of  prosperity;  now 
it  turns  to  the  provision  column  before  taking  an- 
other piece  of  bacon  or  asking  for  another  egg. 
It  is  astonishing  how  many  people  have  come  to 
take  a  vital  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  farmer 
since  he  has  attained  a  small  bank  account.  Far 
be  it  from  me,  who  was  once  one  of  them,  to  make 
light  of  this  new-found  interest.  The  prices  of 
farm  products  which  result  in  a  fair  wage  for  the 
farmer  in  some  cases,  and  in  a  modest  profit  for  a 
few  will,  if  continued,  do  much  to  precipitate  the 
solution  of  agricultural  problems  which  have  been 
waiting  through  the  centuries. 

I  am  writing  this  here  in  my  little  study  in  Cali- 
fornia on  the  twenty-fifth  day  of  April  amid  a  sea 


,246  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

of  roses  and  in  a  land  overflowing  with  plenty,  so 
I  can't  help  being  optimistic  and  perhaps  just  a 
little  flowery.  When  I  compare  present  conditions 
with  some  I  have  been  through  in  the  past  I  rejoice 
with  exceeding  great  joy.  I  am  fully  persuaded 
that  the  many  educational  agencies  which  have 
been  at  work  during  the  last  half  century  for  the 
help  of  the  rural  classes,  have  been  major  factors 
in  accomplishing  the  vast  improvement  in  social 
life  and  productive  effort  in  the  farming  districts. 
But  there  is  much  yet  to  be  done  so  I  am  pro- 
foundly impressed  with  the  need  of  using  eco- 
nomically and  efficiently  the  agencies  already  estab- 
lished for  the  education  of  those  who  furnish  food 
for  themselves  and  for  the  world.  When  that  is 
accomplished  such  other  agencies  as  experience 
proves  to  be  needful  may  be  added.  The  agricul- 
tural education  which  is  founded  on  a  knowledge 
of  conditions,  on  skill  and  upon  the  accumulated 
literature  of  science,  is  only  of  yesterday  and  it 
would  be  strange  if  we  were  not  formulating  some 
schemes  which  will  be  greatly  improved  in  the 
future.  I  am  sometimes  called  "  a  pioneer  in  agri- 
cultural education;"  and  therefore  I  may  caution 
those  who  are  now  in  the  field  and  at  work,  that  I 
left  many  invisible  stones  and  roots  in  the  soil 


CORNELL  FACULTY  OF  AGRICULTURE,  1891. 

Silhouettes  on  menu  of  first  banquet  of  College  of  Agri- 
culture, i,  Roberts;  2,  Wing;  3,  Bailey;  4,  Law;  5,  Caldwell; 
6,  Comstock;  7,  Dudley;  8,  Prentiss. 


EXPERIENCE  WITH  ORGANIZATIONS     247 

which  may  fetch  them  up  standing  as  they  plow 
deeper  than  I  did. 


EXPERIENCE  WITH  NEW  YORK  STATE 
ORGANIZATIONS 

During  the  first  year  of  my  stay  at  Cornell  I 
received  an  invitation  to  deliver  an  address  before 
the  State  Dairymen's  Association.  Coming  from 
the  undeveloped  prairies  of  Iowa  and  all  untrained 
in  public  speaking,  I  realized  that  this  would  be  a 
severe  test  of  my  fitness  for  my  position.  I  sup- 
posed that  the  East  was  far  in  advance  of  the  West 
so  I  selected  a  difficult  and  advanced  subject  — 
u  The  Conservation  of  Warmth  in  Dairy  Barns." 
I  tried  to  show  how  much  more  economical  it  was 
to  conserve  warmth  by  means  of  well-constructed 
stables  than  to  produce  it  by  expensive  forage  fed 
to  the  animals.  I  showed  conclusively  that  the 
cow  first  used  her  food  to  maintain  her  bodily 
temperature  and  second,,  to  replace  worn-out 
tissues;  and  that  it  was  only  the  surplus  over  these 
two  needs  which  went  into  gain  in  weight  or  into 
the  milk  pail.  I  demonstrated  that  a  good  cow 
maintained  her  in-born  motherly  instinct  often  at 
the  expense  of  her  bodily  weight  in  order  to  pro- 
vide food  for  her  young;  but  that  the  first  toll  of 


248  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

the  nutrition  went  to  maintain  bodily  heat  and  if  all 
of  the  ration  was  consumed  for  this  purpose  there 
were  no  carbon  compounds  left  to  produce  butter 
unless  the  cow  drew  on  stored  bodily  fats. 

At  that  time  all-year-round  dairies  had  begun  to 
be  approved  and  so  the  production  of  milk  in  the 
winter  months  was  a  vital  subject.  "  Pine  boards 
versus  cornmeal "  was  being  discussed,  both  from 
a  humanitarian  and  an  economic  standpoint.  It 
was  then  a  common  custom  to  allow  the  cows  in 
winter  to  roam  in  unprotected  yards  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  day  and  to  go  to  some  adjacent 
stream  for  drinking  water.  The  ice  on  the  borders 
of  the  creek  and  the  steep  incline  of  the  bank  often 
compelled  the  cows  to  stand  at  an  angle  of  thirty 
degrees  with  the  horizon  while  they  drank  ice-cold 
water.  I  pointed  out  that  this  method  of  trying  to 
make  ice  cream  direct  from  the  cow  was  an  uphill 
business  and  had  always  proved  a  failure.  I 
recommended  that  the  drinking  water  for  the  dairy 
cattle  not  only  should  be  brought  into  the  stable 
but  that  it  should  be  warmed  to  blood  temperature ; 
for  we  had  discovered  at  the  College  by  experi- 
mentation that  a  cow  in  full  milk  and  in  full  feed 
in  winter  would  drink  from  fifty  to  seventy  pounds 
of  hot  water  daily. 


EXPERIENCE  WITH  ORGANIZATIONS     249 

To  my  astonishment  I  found  myself  far  in  ad- 
vance of  my  audience  in  these  ideas.  When  this 
last  statement  was  made  the  president  of  the  as- 
sociation rose  and  remarked  sarcastically  that  the 
University  must  have  a  "  steam-boiler  breed  of 
cows."  Then  a  leading  dairyman  jumped  up  and 
asked  whether  the  professor  had  ever  plowed! 
With  such  comments  and  questions  they  all  but 
hissed  me  off  the  stage  and  utterly  discredited  my 
propositions. 

In  the  evening  the  Association  was  elaborately 
fed  in  the  basement  of  the  Baptist  Church.  I  went 
to  the  banquet  a  little  late  and  finding  the  distin- 
guished members  all  seated  at  the  head  of  the  table 
and  not  being  invited  to  join  them,  I  took  a  seat  at 
the  foot — apparently  the  proper  place  for  a 
"  hayseed  "  professor.  When  the  speaking  came  on 
I  was  toasted  in  hot  water  in  an  elaborate  and 
witty  fashion.  That  night  was  one  of  the  most 
miserable  of  my  life  as  I  sleeplessly  tossed,  won- 
dering what  would  be  the  result  of  my  being  so 
completely  u  frozen  out "  by  so  important  an 
organization. 

I  was  much  surprised  therefore  to  receive  an 
invitation  to  address  them  again  the  next  year,  but 
of  course  I  accepted  for  these  were  the  very  people 


250  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

I  wanted  to  reach.  I  learned  by  this  experience 
not  to  get  so  far  in  advance  of  my  hearers  as  to 
wholly  lose  their  sympathy;  yet  in  the  intervals 
between  sessions  I  still  had  to  flock  by  myself. 
Year  after  year  I  attended  these  meetings,  winning 
favor  gradually  until,  after  fourteen  years,  it  hap- 
pened that  the  meeting  was  again  held  in  the  same 
place  where  I  had  first  attended  and  the  same  presi- 
dent was  in  the  chair.  Before  going  to  this  con- 
vention I  hunted  up  that  first  paper  which  had 
been  so  ridiculed  and  brought  it  down  to  date. 
That  same  old  paper  I  read  at  the  meeting  as  if  it 
were  quite  new  and  it  was  discussed  in  a  friendly 
and  intelligent  manner. 

At  the  close  of  the  discussion  I  disclosed  the  fact 
that  this  was  the  same  address  that  I  had  delivered 
before  them  fourteen  years  before.  I  reminded 
them  jokingly  of  the  chilling  occurrences  of  that 
meeting,  remarking  that  they  had  made  it  so  hot 
for  me  then  that  it  had  taken  all  these  years  for 
my  temperature  to  become  normal.  The  Honor- 
able Harris  Lewis,  a  man  of  great  wit,  was  then 
the  leader  in  dairy  matters ;  he  was  a  man  who  ap- 
peared larger  when  seated  than  when  standing  and 
when  he  arose  deliberately  everybody  laughed,  as 
they  usually  did,  anticipating  a  humorous  remark. 


EXPERIENCE  WITH  ORGANIZATIONS     251 

This  time,  in  his  unique  way  and  peculiar  voice,  he 
said:  "  Professor,  you've  got  us  —  let  us  down 
easy!" 

I  served  two  terms  myself  as  president  of  this 
association  somewhat  later.  But  this  long  story 
has  been  set  down  here  for  the  purpose  of  showing 
how  professors  of  agriculture  were  discounted  in 
those  early  days  by  practical  men.  It  was  as  hard 
to  get  a  respectful  hearing  among  the  farmers  as 
to  get  a  foothold  in  the  universities;  and  it  required 
infinite  patience,  perseverance  and  good  temper. 

Since  that  time  one  of  my  former  pupils,  Pro- 
fessor H.  H.  Wing,  has  served  two  terms  as  presi- 
dent of  this  association;  and  at  times  many  agri- 
cultural students  have  been  employed  throughout 
the  State  in  testing  herds  of  cows  as  to  quantity  and 
quality  of  product.  Professor  R.  A.  Pearson,  also 
one  of  my  former  pupils,  who  succeeded  Professor 
Wing  in  the  dairy  department  at  Cornell,  became 
State  Commissioner  of  Agriculture  and  took  great 
interest  in  the  development  of  the  dairy  cattle  of 
the  State.  Mr.  Pearson  has  now  (1912)  been 
elected  to  the  Presidency  of  the  Iowa  State  Agri- 
cultural College  at  Ames. 

The  dairy  interest  of  New  York  which  had  al- 
together in  1900,  1,501,608  milch  cows  and  98- 
466  other  cows,  now  constitutes  a  great  industry 


254  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

The  College  was  then  so  illy  equipped  with  il- 
lustrative material  that  it  was  necessary  to  take 
students  on  such  trips  or  they  would  have  missed 
valuable  opportunities;  for  a  considerable  part  of 
an  agricultural  education  consists  in  making  com- 
parisons, good  and  poor  being  only  relative  terms. 
I  am  quite  sure  I  was  the  first  professor  to  adopt 
this  method  of  instruction  but  now  it  is  common 
enough  in  varied  forms. 

My  frequent  absences  from  the  college  resulted 
in  my  being  criticised  for  neglecting  my  classes 
—  the  critics  not  knowing  of  my  vacation  agree- 
ment. The  fact  is,  things  only  went  smoothly 
when  it  was  understood  that  I  was  really  doing  two 
men's  work,  so  I  found  it  best  to  ask  the  Presi- 
dent's permission  if  my  absence  was  likely  to  ex- 
tend beyond  one  day  and  later  this  became  a  rule 
for  the  government  of  all  instructors.  Once,  when 
seeking  permission  from  the  President  for  a  three 
days'  absence,  he  remarked  wisely  that  it  was  a 
good  thing  sometimes  to  give  a  class  a  rest  so  that 
they  might  catch  their  breath  and  become  normal. 

Before  I  came  to  Cornell  the  nursery  firm  of 
Ellwanger  &  Barry,  of  Rochester,  New  York, 
had  offered  to  donate  to  the  University  a  large 
assortment  of  plants  for  an  arboretum.  Since  the 


EXPERIENCE  WITH  ORGANIZATIONS     255 

campus  was  somewhat  hilly  and  would  need  grad- 
ing before  plants  could  be  set  out  and  as  no  com- 
prehensive plan  had  then  been  made  for  locating 
the  college  buildings,  and,  most  important  of  all, 
since  the  University  lacked  funds  even  to  pay  its 
instructing  staff  properly,  the  offer  had  been 
politely  declined.  This  firm  was,  naturally,  not 
very  friendly  to  Cornell  afterwards,  not  having 
understood  all  these  reasons. 

There  were  other  reasons  as  well  why  the  horti- 
culturists of  the  State  were  not  enthusiastic  about 
the  College  of  Agriculture.  Our  Professor  of 
Botany  and  Horticulture,  an  overworked  man  in 
delicate  health,  was  unable  to  make  the  effort  to 
heal  this  breach  by  attending  the  annual  horticul- 
tural meetings  —  perhaps  the  most  important  con- 
vention of  the  State.  Mr.  Barry,  so  long  as  he 
lived,  was  the  President  of  the  State  Horticultural 
Association,  which  was  unfortunate  from  our  point 
of  view. 

How  to  overcome  this  unfriendliness  was  a  ques- 
tion to  which  I  gave  much  thought.  I  myself  was 
quite  unknown  to  the  agricultural  leaders.  I  was 
looked  down  upon  by  the  scientists,  ridiculed  by 
the  farmers,  on  trial  even  at  Cornell,  and  worst 
of  all,  I  knew  almost  nothing  about  horticulture. 


256  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

For  two  or  three  years  I  contented  myself  with 
taking  a  back  seat  at  these  meetings  and  with  try- 
ing to  make  acquaintances  at  the  headquarters' 
hotel.  Finally,  while  making  investigations  in  the 
preservation,  loss  and  value  of  farm  manures,  I 
accumulated  some  good  material  for  a  talk  and  I 
knew  that  the  orchardists  were  needing  informa- 
tion about  plant  foods.  So  that  year  I  went  up  to 
the  meeting  with  my  facts  condensed  and  freshly 
in  mind,  if  I  could  get  the  chance  to  present  them. 

Upon  greeting  Mr.  Barry,  I  remarked  that  if 
there  chanced  to  be  a  few  unoccupied  minutes  I 
would  like  to  make  some  brief  remarks.  That  day 
and  most  of  the  next  passed  and  I  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  ice  was  yet  too  thick  to  be 
broken,  when  like  a  clap  of  thunder,  in  his  sten- 
torian voice,  Mr.  Barry  called  upon  Professor 
Roberts.  I  had  no  time  for  stage  fright  —  which 
to  this  day  I  am  subject  to  —  but  rushed  forward 
from  the  rear  of  the  hall  and  without  even  my 
notes  to  guide  me,  I  made  the  best  short  talk  I  had 
ever  given.  The  subject  I  had  chosen  was  pat  and 
new  and  the  facts  were  so  convincing  that  they  ap- 
pealed to  my  audience.  Then  was  made  a  big  hole 
in  the  ice  that  never  after  froze  over. 

Next  year  I  received  a  formal  invitation  to  ad- 
dress the  Association  and  I  believe  I  was  asked  to 


EXPERIENCE  WITH  ORGANIZATIONS     257 

speak  at  every  subsequent  meeting  as  long  as  I 
stayed  at  Cornell.  Later  Professor  Comstock 
took  a  most  useful  and  active  part  in  these  yearly 
deliberations  and  his  work  was  supplemented  and 
finally  taken  over  by  his  assistant,  that  able  eco- 
nomic entomologist,  Professor  Mark  V.  Slinger- 
land,  now  deceased. 

One  of  the  best  results  of  this  victory  over  preju- 
dice was  that  this  society  afterward  came  to  the 
rescue  —  along  with  a  number  of  other  agricul- 
tural associations  —  when  the  College  of  Agricul- 
ture went  to  the  Legislature  and  asked  for  an  ap- 
propriation of  $250,000  with  which  to  erect  build- 
ings for  its  exclusive  use.  Some  years  previously 
the  State  had  appropriated  $50,000  for  a  dairy 
building,  probably  because  Professor  Wing  and  I 
had  taken  such  an  active  interest  in  the  dairy  hus- 
bandry of  the  State.  This  building  served  its  pur- 
pose until  a  larger  and  more  modern  one  became 
necessary.  It  was  then  taken  over  by  the  Univer- 
sity and  made  a  wing  of  Goldwin  Smith  Hall. 
The  sum  of  $40,000  was  allowed  for  it,  which, 
added  to  the  $250,000  obtained  from  the  Legisla- 
ture, made  a  sum  of  $290,000  for  the  agricultural 
buildings  and  their  equipment. 

I  am  fully  persuaded  now  that  the  most  valuable 


258-  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

and  productive  work  I  did  for  Cornell  was  in  ad- 
vertising the  work  we  were  doing — making  the 
college  known  among  farmers  and  legislators 
through  whom  we  secured  not  only  buildings  but 
support  and  sympathy  in  the  promotion  of  more 
intelligent  husbandry. 

The  old  and  honored  Agricultural  Society  of 
the  State  for  many  years  held  its  annual  fair  at 
Albany,  Utica,  Elmira,  Rochester  and  Buffalo  in 
a  somewhat  regular  rotation.  It  was  so  expensive 
to  provide  suitable  buildings  at  each  of  these  cities 
in  turn  that  they  were  never  adequate  and  as  a  con- 
sequence there  was  a  steady  decline  in  attendance. 
For  lack  of  interest  on  the  part  of  exhibitors  the 
affairs  of  the  Society  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a 
few  life  members  who  conducted  the  annual  show 
to  suit  themselves  and,  it  was  believed  by  some,  for 
their  own  profit.  In  order  to  save  the  Society,  a 
few  annual  and  life  members  joined  in  securing 
many  proxies  on  the  quiet  and  at  a  certain  election 
of  officers  outvoted  the  old  management  and  their 
following.  The  old  ring  died  hard ;  the  lock  on  the 
office  door  of  the  secretary  —  who  had  drawn  a 
liberal  salary  for  many  years  —  had  to  be  picked 
and  removed  and  a  complicated  new  one  sub- 
stituted for  it  before  the  newly-elected  secretary 
could  get  or  hold  possession. 


EXPERIENCE  WITH  ORGANIZATIONS     259 

After  much  discussion  the  new  administration 
decided  to  build  a  permanent  home  for  the  fair 
that  the  exhibitors  might  always  find  suitable  pro- 
tection for  their  exhibits.  The  city  of  Syracuse 
was  selected  as  the  most  central  for  the  permanent 
location.  Naturally,  the  other  cities  became  an- 
tagonistic and  for  the  next  few  years  the  new  man- 
agement had  all  it  could  do  to  keep  the  fair  going. 
Large  State  appropriations  for  the  erection  of 
buildings  and  for  premiums  were  made  annually; 
yet  notwithstanding  this,  the  Association  would 
come  out  at  the  end  of  every  year  in  debt.  At  this 
juncture  the  Board  of  Managers  requested  me  to 
accept  the  nomination  for  the  presidency,  assuring 
me  that  they  were  certain  I  could  be  elected.  They 
agreed  that  I  was  most  favorably  known  through- 
out the  State  and  had  much  influence  with  many 
state  and  county  organizations;  and  they  hoped 
that  my  non-partisan  influence  would  do  much  to 
heal  the  old  jealousies  and  re-unite  the  leading 
farm  interests  in  this  enterprise. 

I  was  elected  by  an  almost  unanimous  vote  — 
the  chief  opponent  from  the  old  board  not  appear- 
ing at  the  election.  Almost  my  first  official  act  was 
to  sign — with  other  members  of  the  Board  —  a 
note  at  bank  for  something  like  thirty  thousand 
dollars.  The  next  season  premiums  were  reduced, 


260  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

expenses  cut  and  much  hard  work  done  and  for 
once  the  Society  came  out  even.  I  was  again 
elected  to  the  presidency  but  the  weather  being  un- 
propitious  that  year  at  fair  time,  the  usual  deficit 
appeared.  From  this  time  on  it  was  necessary  to 
obtain  large  appropriations  to  keep  the  fair  going; 
and  as  the  legislators  grew  tired  of  these  annual 
deficits  it  became  necessary  to  elect  as  president 
some  man  who  had  great  influence  with  the  powers 
at  Albany.  And  meanwhile  the  permanent  debt 
steadily  grew  larger. 

Some  time  before  my  retirement  from  Cornell 
the  horsemen  of  the  State  became  dominant  in  the 
Society  and  an  honest  effort  appears  to  have  been 
made  to  save  it  by  repairing  the  old  buildings, 
adding  new  ones,  and  by  making  trotting  and  other 
horse  exhibitions  the  principal  feature  of  the  show. 
Well-known  and  wealthy  men  and  some  strong 
politicians  took  the  management,  fast  horses  be- 
came the  chief  attraction  and  increased  appropria- 
tions were  obtained  from  the  Legislature.  So  far 
as*  I  am  able  to  learn  the  Society  again  became 
strong  and  useful,  largely  through  the  influence  of 
Commissioner  R.  A.  Pearson. 

The  most  interesting  part  of  my  connection  with 
the  New  York  State  Agricultural  Society  is  still  to 


EXPERIENCE  WITH  ORGANIZATIONS     261 

be  related.  The  University  Charter  granted  by 
the  State  provided  among  other  things  that  the 
president  of  this  Society  should  be  an  ex-officio 
member  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  Cornell. 
When  I  became  president  of  the  Society  my  col- 
leagues on  the  faculty  congratulated  me  on  having 
reached  this  distinguished  position  but  the  Execu- 
tive Committee  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  had  no 
words  of  felicitation  for  me.  The  President  of 
the  University  sent  for  me  and  quietly  informed 
me  that  a  professor  could  not  be  permitted  to  sit 
as  a  member  of  the  Board  or  the  Executive  Com- 
mittee and  that  the  Board  of  Trustees  could  unseat 
me  by  resolution  or  they  could  ask  for  my  resigna- 
tion. 

I  replied  that  as  to  the  first  procedure,  the 
Board  was  powerless  to  unseat  me  for  the  Charter 
of  the  University  was  above  them;  and  that  as  to 
my  resignation,  it  had  always  been  before  them. 
Some  years  earlier  I  had  made  it  plain  to  President 
White  that  my  resignation  was  always  metaphori- 
cally in  the  hands  of  the  Executive  Committee.  I 
had  never  had  any  intention  of  taking  part  in  the 
business  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  because  matters 
often  came  up  for  consideration  which  were  vital 
to  the  other  professors;  but  I  had  supposed  that 


262  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

as  President  of  the  State  Agricultural  Society  I 
could  come  before  the  Executive  Committee  to 
urge  the  needs  of  my  own  department  as  an  official 
equal  and  not  on  my  knees  as  a  suppliant  for 
favors. 

As  it  turned  out  I  only  went  once  before  the 
Committee  in  my  official  position  and  that  by  ap- 
pointment. At  that  time  I  explained  the  work  of 
the  College  somewhat  at  length  and  my  connection 
with  it,  showing  them  how  many  winter  vacations 
I  had  given  to  the  University  without  compensa- 
tion. 

The  Acting  President,  Professor  Crane,  after- 
ward said  to  me  that  I  had  made  an  excellent  pres- 
entation of  my  case  and  that  it  had  made  a  pro- 
found impression  upon  the  Executive  Committee. 
From  that  time  on,  at  any  rate,  it  appeared  to  me 
that  my  road  was  a  little  easier;  it  is  certain  that 
the  Acting  President  became  convinced  then  of  the 
justice  of  my  claim  for  a  larger  recognition  of  the 
College  of  Agriculture.  I  have  reason  to  believe 
that  he  often  helped  it  in  a  quiet  way  through  his 
close  connection  with  the  Board  and  the  President 
of  the  University.  We  became  fast  friends  and 
on  the  anniversary  of  my  seventy-first  birthday  he 
wrote  me  an  appreciative  and  congratulatory  letter. 


AGRICULTURAL  OBSERVATIONS         263 

When  I  met  the  President  of  the  University  on 
his  return  this  matter  of  my  being  an  ex-officio 
trustee  came  up  again.  What  had  hurt  me  most 
was  that  the  trustees  had  not  given  me  credit  for 
having  sense  enough  to  know  that  it  was  not  suit- 
able for  a  professor  in  one  college  to  take  part  in 
framing  rules  for  the  government  of  other  col- 
leges or  to  be  present  when  other  professors  and 
teachers  and  their  departments  were  being  dis- 
cussed. I  said  to  him  that  the  position  of  Trustee 
of  Cornell  University  was  the  highest  one  I  ever 
expected  to  reach;  and  that  I  was  proud  of  it  be- 
cause I  had  won  it  fairly  and  not  by  any  political 
pull.  It  was  to  me  an  indication  that  my  work  in 
the  promotion  of  agricultural  education  and  farm 
practice  was  appreciated  by  the  people  of  the  State 
at  large ;  and  neither  he  nor  the  Board  need  have 
been  afraid  that  I  would  intrude. 

TRAVELS  AND  AGRICULTURAL 
OBSERVATIONS 

There  was  a  lapse  of  sixty  years  between  my 
first  journey  to  New  York  City  when  I  was  a  lad 
and  my  last  one  a  few  weeks  before  I  came  to 
California.  But  in  that  long  time,  though  I  have 
not  been  round  the  world,  nor  to  Europe  more 


264  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

than  once,  I  have  nevertheless  travelled  a  good 
deal  for  a  busy  man  of  limited  means.  I  have 
lectured  at  various  times  in  twenty-three  of  the 
States  and  in  three  provinces  of  Canada;  I  have 
travelled  in  nearly  every  State  of  the  Union  for 
the  specific  purpose  of  becoming  acquainted  with 
American  agriculture.  With  this  object  in  view 
I  have  crossed  the  continent  seven  times,  made  six 
trips  through  the  Southern  States,  and  many 
shorter  journeys  throughout  the  New  England  and 
Middle  States. 

Even  from  the  car  window  I  could  often  tell 
whether  the  farmers  of  a  given  district  were  receiv- 
ing an  adequate  return  for  their  labor  and  it  was 
not  very  difficult  to  surmise  the  principal  causes  of 
failure.  The  two  factors  which  always  stand  out 
prominently  when  one  is  studying  agriculture  at 
large,  are  the  productive  power  of  the  land  and 
the  exact  knowledge  of  farming  possessed  by  those 
who  till  it.  If  vast  areas  of  land  which  now  bring 
but  a  meagre  return  to  those  who  till  them  were 
thrown  out  of  cultivation  and  re-forested  there 
would  be  great  gain  not  only  to  the  individual  but 
to  the  community  as  well.  An  average  yield  of 
two-fifths  of  a  bale  of  cotton  per  acre  (200 
pounds)  cannot  provide  a  fair  living  for  those 


AGRICULTURAL  OBSERVATIONS        265 

who  raise  it,  much  less  a  profit,  when  the  infinite 
pains  and  severe  labor  required  to  raise  cotton  are 
taken  into  account.  There  is  still  good  agricultural 
land  in  the  cotton  belt  which  might  be  cleared  to 
take  the  place  of  that  which  should  be  re-forested. 

In  my  last  annual  report  to  the  Trustees  of  Cor- 
nell University  I  urged  upon  them  the  desirability 
of  purchasing  small  areas  of  the  depleted  lands 
near  the  University  and  of  re-clothing  them  with 
forests  so  that  the  people  of  the  State  and  the 
students  might  have  proper  object  lessons  in  re- 
forestation ;  and  that  some  of  the  lands  which  were 
running  their  owners  into  debt  might  not  furnish 
inferior  products,  raised  at  a  loss,  to  glut  the  mar- 
kets. To  cite  a  specific  case :  within  twenty  miles 
of  the  University  and  within  a  mile  of  a  railway 
station  there  was  a  farm  of  100  acres  offered  to 
me  for  $  i  ,000.  There  was  still  enough  timber  in 
the  wood  lot  to  remind  one  of  the  valuable  timber 
which  had  once  covered  these  rolling  acres  but 
which  had  been  wantonly  burned  or  sawed  into 
lumber  and  sold  for  six  to  eight  dollars  per 
thousand  feet  —  scarcely  more  than  the  cost  of 
marketing. 

Such  ideas  as  these  were  the  result  of  my  various 
journeys.  If  I  were  now  starting  out  in  life  I 


266  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

would  certainly  choose  forestry  instead  of  agricul- 
ture as  my  profession.  The  one  is  constructive, 
the  other  destructive;  the  first  husbands  and  pro- 
tects the  soil  for  future  generations,  the  second  has 
filched  from  our  common  mother  her  precious, 
long-stored  treasures  only  to  thrust  her  products 
upon  an  unresponsive  market.  All  the  people  ulti- 
mately suffer  when  there  is  taken  from  the  soil 
that  which  by  the  laws  of  economy  is  not  wanted 
and  which  sells  in  the  market  for  less  than  it  costs 
to  produce  it. 

I  always  had  a  peculiar  love  for  the  woods  about 
my  native  home  in  central  New  York;  and  so  when 
I  was  very  tired  I  used  to  go,  in  later  years,  to 
that  little  corner  of  the  University  Farm  where 
the  oaks  and  pines,  the  chestnuts  and  hemlocks, 
were  still  standing  in  their  pristine  dignity;  and 
lying  flat  on  my  back,  admire  their  straight,  limb- 
less trunks,  their  graceful  swaying,  and  their  soft 
eternal  worship  of  their  Maker.  I  was  therefore 
particularly  pleased  when  once  upon  a  time  I  was 
invited  to  deliver  an  address  at  the  dedication  of 
the  Federal  Experiment  Station  building  at  Orono, 
Maine.  Here  I  thought  I  should  behold  not  only 
the  useful  lumber  pine  of  New  York  but  lofty 
spires  fit  for  the  masts  of  great  battleships  and 


AGRICULTURAL  OBSERVATIONS         267 

merchantmen.  Imagine  my  disappointment  when, 
soon  after  crossing  the  line  into  the  State  of  Maine, 
I  saw  several  saw  mills  cutting  thin  box-boards  out 
of  logs  nearly  all  of  which  were  smaller  than 
telegraph  poles.  The  railway  station  building  in 
this  pine-tree  state  was  finished  inside  with  Georgia 
pine! 

"  So  withered  stumps  disgraced  the  sylvan  scene 
No  longer  fruitful  and  no  longer  green." 

I  frequently  visited  Simcoe,  Canada,  and  at  Til- 
sonberg,  where  there  was  a  tedious  wait  for  rail- 
way connection,  I  would  wander  off  into  the  near-by 
clearings  where  infinite  toil  was  being  expended  to 
destroy  the  beautiful  trees,  in  order  that  sunlight 
might  be  let  in  to  poor,  water-soaked  patches  of 
land  which  by  no  possible  means  could  ever  be 
made  to  pay  more  than  the  meagerest  reward  for 
the  labor  of  clearing  and  tilling  them.  In  travel- 
ling from  Montreal  to  Stambridge  —  a  French 
district  —  we  passed  through  long  stretches  of 
level  country  which  had  been  cleared  and  fenced 
into  little  fields  by  the  severest  toil.  So  many  and 
so  high  were  the  fences  that  from  the  car  window 
the  whole  countryside  looked  like  one  vast,  con- 
tinuous rail  pile;  only  small  areas  of  cultivated 
land  adjoining  the  railroad  track  could  be  seen; 


268  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

all  else  was  hidden  by  rails  —  nice,  straight  rails, 
neatly  and  carefully  laid  on  other  nice,  straight 
rails,  and  these  on  others  as  high  as  the  French 
farmers  could  reach.  All  this  reminded  me  of  the 
little  fields  of  my  boyhood  and  the  interminable 
fences,  and  of  myself,  a  discouraged,  spindly  lad 
mowing  the  weeds  out  of  those  "  snaky  "  fence 
corners  on  muggy  August  days.  I  must  declare 
that  splitting  such  rails  never  produced  a  Lincoln 
but  rather,  poor  white  trash  —  Lincolns  are  born 
and  they  split  rails  only  under  protest ! 

Afterward  I  travelled  in  western  North  Caro- 
lina and  there  I  found  the  farmers  fencing  in 
"  moonshine  "  cornfields  with  black  walnut  rails  — 
making  barriers  that  were  horse-high,  bull-strong 
and  pig-tight.  In  that  country  of  narrow-chested 
pigs,  the  rails  had  to  be  split  small  and  it  was  not 
uncommon  to  find  old  fences  twelve  and  fourteen 
rails  high,  the  practice  being  to  lay  new  rails  on 
top  as  the  under  ones  settled,  to  make  it  horse-high. 

During  all  my  earlier  travels  I  was  securing 
lecture  material  by  this  study  of  things  at  first  hand 
—  things  as  widely  scattered  as  were  the  homes 
of  the  students  whom  I  taught  —  for  at  that  time 
agricultural  literature  was  very  meagre  and  un- 
reliable. These  journeys  gave  me  opportunity  to 


AGRICULTURAL  OBSERVATIONS        269 

observe  the  failures  and  successes  along  many  lines 
of  agriculture  in  widely  separated  districts  and 
saved  me  from  making  many  mistakes,  while 
forming  my  judgment  and  improving  my  teaching 
capacity. 

While  travelling  in  South  Carolina,  on  one  oc- 
casion, I  was  the  guest  of  a  wealthy  and  intelligent 
planter  who  had  somewhere  earned  the  degree  of 
M.  D.  I  commented  to  him  on  the  great  value  of 
the  oil*  expressed  from  the  cotton-seed  —  which 
had  formerly  been  wasted  —  leaving  all  the  nutri- 
tive value  of  the  seed  for  feeding  and  fertilizing 
purposes  and  in  an  improved  condition.  To  which 
he  replied,  quite  seriously,  that  he  never  sold  any 
cotton-seed  because  he  considered  the  oil  which  it 
contained  a  valuable  fertilizer  —  everybody  knew 
how  beneficial  soapsuds  were  when  used  around 
fruit  trees  and  the  soap  was  made  of  oil  and 
grease !  This  reminds  me  of  another  superstition 
that  I  picked  up  in  the  South.  While  visiting  Mr. 
Joseph  Jefferson,  the  well-known  actor,  at  his  cat- 
tle ranch  and  winter  home  near  Vermillion  Bay, 
Louisiana,  he  told  me  that  he  had  cured  his  rheu- 
matism by  carrying  a  potato  in  his  pants  pocket 
until  it  had  dried  up  into  a  hard  little  sphere;  and 
to  prove  one  part  of  the  story  he  exhibited  the 
potato ! 


270  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

At  the  time  I  first  travelled  through  the  South- 
ern States  it  seemed  to  me  that  they  were  not  yet 
ready  to  receive  northern  settlers  into  full  fellow- 
ship and  I  did  not,  therefore,  invest  in  land  then; 
but  in  1887,  having  occasion  to  go  as  far  west  as 
Wisconsin  to  deliver  some  lectures,  I  turned  aside 
to  visit  the  Agricultural  College  at  Starkville, 
Mississippi,  where  my  friend,  Professor  F.  A. 
Gulley,  was  in  charge  of  the  agricultural  depart- 
ment. We  discussed  the  industrial  future  of  the 
South  and  particularly  land  values  and  prices.  He 
took  me  to  see  1,400  acres  of  bottom  timber  land 
which  could  be  purchased  at  a  great  bargain.  The 
forest  was  largely  of  hickory  —  an  indication  of 
good  soil — rather  thinly  scattered  over  the  whole 
tract,  a  part  of  which  was  subject  to  a  slight  over- 
flow in  the  spring,  which  could  easily  be  drained. 
The  price  of  the  whole  tract  was  one  thousand  dol- 
lars. The  owner  was  not  in  town  but  when  I  had 
looked  up  the  title  and  found  it  good,  I  tried  to 
borrow  money  from  my  friend  for  a  deposit  to 
bind  the  bargain.  But  he  said  that  as  there  had 
been  but  one  sale  of  land  in  all  this  district  since 
the  War,  it  would  be  quite  safe  to  let  the  matter 
rest  until  I  got  home.  Meanwhile  the  agent  of  the 
railroad  had  suspected  my  business  from  the  fact 


AGRICULTURAL  OBSERVATIONS        271 

that  I  purchased  a  ticket  from  Chicago  at  a  re- 
duced rate  as  a  "  land-looker;  "  he  followed  me  up, 
bought  the  land  for  a  thousand  dollars  cash  and 
before  I  got  home  sold  it  at  an  advance  of  about 
four  thousand. 

You  can  imagine  my  chagrin  when  I  received 
this  news;  but  Professor  Gulley  wrote  me  comfort- 
ingly, that  there  were  plenty  of  just  as  good  bar- 
gains almost  anywhere  in  the  State.  In  this  he 
was  mistaken,  however,  for  this  particular  tract 
was  rich,  virgin  soil  while  most  of  the  other  lands 
had  been  depleted  by  many  crops  of  cotton.  A  few 
months  later  he  wrote  me  that  he  had  found  1,140 
acres  of  level  land  without  fences  or  buildings  on 
it  which  had  laid  out  to  commons  ever  since  the 
opposing  armies  had  skirmished  over  it  in  1863. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  my  son  afterwards  ploughed 
up  cannonballs  in  several  places  on  it.  It  was 
situated  about  six  miles  from  Canton,  the  County 
Seat,  and  three  miles  from  a  little  railway  station 
—  Walkerton  —  and  sixteen  miles  north  of  Jack- 
son, the  Capitol  of  the  State. 

Dr.  James  Law,  Professor  F.  A.  Gulley  and  my- 
self formed  "  The  Mississippi  Land  and  Cattle 
Company,  Limited  "  and  bought  the  land  at  two 
dollars  per  acre,  the  owner  receiving  $1.50  and 


272  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

the  agent  $0.50.  My  son,  Perry  B.  Roberts,  (Cor- 
nell '87)  was  made  manager  of  this  plantation 
which  was  to  be  a  cattle  ranch.  He  at  once  con- 
structed a  large  pool  —  and  afterwards  nine  or 
ten  more  —  by  excavating  earth-dams  in  the  low 
draws,  so  that  the  ranch  could  never  run  short  of 
water.  This  afforded  a  supply  for  the  livestock  in 
several  places  so  that  they  did  not  suffer  from 
thirst  because  of  the  long  distance  to  water. 

The  attempt  to  make  a  good  well  near  the  build- 
ings was  unsuccessful  because  of  the  fine  clay  soil ; 
so  a  large  underground  cistern  was  built  which  re- 
ceived rain  water  from  the  eaves  of  the  buildings 
at  the  beginning  of  winter  and  which  was  sealed  up 
before  the  warm  weather  came  on  in  the  spring. 
With  this  precaution  the  water  remained  cool  and 
sweet  all  summer. 

A  simple  house,  a  large  barn,  a  small  horse 
barn,  two  cabins  and  later,  a  silo,  were  built.  The 
ranch  was  fenced  into  four  fields  of  unequal  size 
with  a  three  barbed-wire  fence  of  which  the  oak 
posts  were  made  eight  feet  long  so  that  when  one 
end  rotted  off  the  staples  could  be  cut  and  the  posts 
turned  end  for  end.  The  farm  was  supplied  with 
brood-mares,  for  workstock  largely,  and  with  a 
herd  of  from  one  to  two  hundred  cattle,  bought 


AGRICULTURAL  OBSERVATIONS         273 

from  the  owners  of  the  abandoned  open  lowlands 
round  about. 

After  getting  well  started  the  Company  also 
rented  640  acres  of  land  adjoining  at  25  cents  per 
acre;  but  soon  after  this  the  fence  laws  were  so 
changed  that  the  planters  were  compelled  to  fence 
in  their  livestock  instead  of  fencing  in  their  crops. 
This  produced  a  shortage  of  young  cattle  in  the 
country  round  and  compelled  the  company  to 
change  its  business  radically.  We  had  been  hand- 
ling from  800  to  i  ,000  cattle  yearly,  buying  in 
lean  cattle  and  selling  as  soon  as  the  butchers 
would  take  them.  The  change  in  the  law  com- 
pelled us  to  give  up  the  cattle  business  practically 
and  to  take  up  cotton  raising. 

About  this  time  Professor  Gulley  sold  his  fifth 
interest  to  Professor  Law  and  the  land  was  then 
divided  into  five  equal  parts  in  value,  I  taking  over 
two-fifths  and  Professor  Law  three-fifths  which  in- 
cluded the  buildings.  Meanwhile  I  had  purchased 
640  acres  adjoining  at  $6.00  per  acre  upon  which 
my  son  now  built  a  small  house  and  barn  and  sev- 
eral cabins  for  tenants.  This  gave  the  Robertses 
somewhat  over  one  thousand  acres,  one-third  of 
which  was  woodland,  useful  only  for  providing 
firewood. 


274  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

The  enterprise  was  never  fully  successful  be- 
cause the  soil  had  been  much  depleted  and  the  rota- 
tion was  such,  necessarily,  that  recovery  crops 
could  not  be  grown  in  a  large  way  to  restore  the 
power  of  the  land;  and  because  of  the  compulsory 
change  in  the  kind  of  agriculture  pursued.  In 
1900  my  son  sold  the  whole  place  and  moved  to 
California. 

TRAVEL  IN  EUROPE 

I  have  often  wondered  why  many  educated 
travellers  who  have  visited  the  Orient  and  the  Art 
Centers  of  Europe  have  apparently  not  seen  any- 
thing except  beautiful  cathedrals  built  by  the  toil 
of  half-starved  workmen,  picture  galleries  and 
fine  scenery.  I  suppose  I  must  be  too  practical  — 
too  just  to  "  the  ox  that  treadeth  out  the  corn  " — 
to  rave  over  these  lovely  things  while  human 
beings  suffer.  American  travellers  cannot  but  see 
the  enforced  and  grinding  thrift  and  the  terrible 
effects  of  ages  of  drudgery  upon  the  peasant 
classes.  Look  as  I  may,  the  dark  background  of 
these  works  of  art  and  nature  blur  my  vision  and 
rob  me  of  much  of  the  pleasure  that  others  seem 
to  gain  from  them.  I  do  not  see  the  use  of  labo- 
riously building  spires  that  the  unlettered  throng 
may  believe  they  reach  in  some  mysterious  way 


TRAVEL  IN  EUROPE  275 

the  very  throne  of  God.  God  dwelleth  in  the 
hearts  of  men  here  and  now  and  not  on  "  the  pin- 
nacles of  the  Temple."  Such  thoughts  as  these  led 
me  to  study  the  land  and  the  people  chiefly  during 
my  two  months*  stay  in  Europe  rather  than  to  visit 
historic  piles  of  brick  and  stone. 

In  the  summer  of  1878  it  was  at  last  my  privi- 
lege to  study  European  agriculture  at  first  hand. 
With  several  Collegians  I  embarked  on  a  slow 
Dutch  steamer  and  at  the  end  of  two  weeks 
landed  in  Rotterdam.  I  enjoyed  my  visit  to  the 
great  University  of  Leyden  because  it  had  been 
built  by  great  heroism  and  suffering;  and  to  other 
places  of  historic  and  educational  interest;  but 
most  of  all  I  enjoyed  a  two  weeks  driving  trip 
through  North  Holland  and  Friesland  in  company 
with  Professor  W.  T.  Hewitt  who  was  then  mak- 
ing a  study  of  the  Friesian  dialect.  These  two 
provinces  are  largely  given  over  to  the  rearing  and 
exportation  of  cattle  and  to  the  dairy  industry.  I 
was  greatly  interested  in  the  herds  of  black  and 
white  dairy  cows,  especially  as  I  had  an  order  to 
make  some  purchases.  This  variety  of  cattle,  now 
known  as  Holstein-Friesian,  has  been  bred  nearly 
pure  for  at  least  five  hundred  years  on  the  polders 
(reclaimed  lakes)  and  hence  has  ripened  into  a 


276  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

most  prepotent  breed.  American  dairymen  have 
now  become  much  interested  in  them  and  have  im- 
ported many  select  specimens. 

Early  in  this  narrative  I  have  related  how  I  be- 
came interested  in  this  breed  and  now  I  had  the 
opportunity  of  inspecting  not  only  their  home  but 
also  many  hundreds  of  the  finest  animals  in  the 
Netherlands.  But  good  as  the  breed  was,  the 
American  breeder  has  greatly  improved  it.  I  ap- 
pend the  recent  official  performance  of  one  of  the 
most  noted  producers,  "  Pontiac  Pleione  No. 
61102",  owned  by  Stevens  Brothers,  Liverpool, 
New  York: 

"100.1  pounds  milk  in  a  day;  645.1  pounds  milk, 
26.ilpounds  butter  in  seven  days;  2,752  pounds  milk, 
103.57  pounds  butter  in  30  days.  She  dropped  her 
calf  in  n|  months  after  calving,  and  in  the  365  days 
produced  over  26,000  pounds  of  milk  —  an  average  of 
71 1  pounds  of  milk  and  2  pounds  10  ounces  of  butter 
per  day.  She  has  never  been  dry  since  she  first  fresh- 
ened as  a  two-year-old  and  is  one  of  the  finest  types 
of  Holstein-Friesian  cows  living." 

Since  the  above  was  written  the  three-year-old 
record  has  also  been  broken  and  it  thus  appears 
that  my  instincts,  even  way  back  in  1875,  were 
right  when  I  purchased  the  three  Holsteins  for 
the  University  Farm. 

The  dairy  farmers  of  Holland  are  intelligent, 


TRAVEL  IN  EUROPE  277 

law-abiding  and  skilful.  The  men  do  not  work  as 
slavishly  as  do  most  American  farmers,  since  little 
tillage  is  practised,  the  land  being  given  over  to 
hay  and  pasturage.  Most  of  the  land  has  been 
reclaimed  from  marsh,  lake  and  sea,  and  is  natur- 
ally moist  and  fertile;  and,  unlike  the  land  in  our 
own  country,  it  retains  and  even  increases  its  pro- 
ductive power.  One  must  praise  the  skill  and 
perseverance  of  these  low-country  farmers,  but 
most  of  all  I  admired  the  contained,  simple  and 
intelligent  life  of  both  landowners  and  tenants 
whose  acres  have  grown  no  less  rich  by  use  after 
hundreds  of  years. 

The  city  of  Haarlem  interested  me  very  much  as 
it  is  the  center  of  the  culture  of  Hyacinths,  Tulips, 
Auriculas  and  Carnations.  Holland  claims  the 
merit  of  having  promoted  floriculture  to  a  greater 
extent  than  any  other  country  in  the  world.  As 
early  as  1836  and  1837  the  flower  trade  of  Hol- 
land assumed  the  form  of  a  mania  and  many  peo- 
ple speculated  in  bulbs  to  their  great  gain.  It  is 
recorded  that  a  "  Sempre  Augustus  "  tulip  bulb 
was  sold  for  13,000  florins — $5,220  —  and  an 
"Admiral  Eukhuizen  "  for  5,000  florins — $2,000. 
A  single  Dutch  town  is  said  to  have  gained  up- 
wards of  ten  million  florins  by  the  sale  of  tulip 


278  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

bulbs  alone  in  one  year,  and  a  speculator  in  Am- 
sterdam realized  68,000  florins  in  four  months 
from  the  sales  of  bulbs. 

I  found  that  the  staid  Dutchman  had  some 
characteristics  in  common  with  Americans.  A 
Dutch  farmer's  boy  brought  out  his  school  atlas 
that  I  might  show  him  where  I  lived ;  think  of  my 
humiliation  when  I  saw  that  the  United  States  on 
his  map  was  pictured  somewhat  smaller  than  the 
Netherlands!  But  our  geographers  treat  some 
foreign  countries  in  the  same  way.  In  the  course 
of  visiting  various  farms  in  order  to  purchase  cat- 
tle, I  was  able  to  eat  and  chat  with  the  residents 
and  their  families  and  to  form  some  idea  of  their 
home  life  and  habits.  It  is  enough  to  say  here  that 
I  formed  a  most  favorable  opinion  of  the  Dutch 
people. 

In  England,  the  rural  conditions  were  quite 
different.  The  landowner  usually  resided  in  some 
distant  city  or  at  his  country  home  that  was  often 
far  away.  The  renter,  the  country  gentleman, 
usually  resides  on  the  land  and  operates  largely 
through  a  bailiff,  who  stands  for  a  non-working 
boss  such  as  may  be  found  on  the  ranches  of 
wealthy  Americans,  though,  in  some  cases,  the 
landowner  deals  directly  through  the  bailiff.  Un- 
der the  bailiff  may  come  still  another,  the  sub-boss, 


TRAVEL  IN  EUROPE  279 

who  works  with  the  laborers.  Try  as  I  would  I 
could  not  get  to  see  the  peasants  at  home  in  their 
neat-looking  little  brick  houses,  nor  could  I  get  an 
invitation  to  eat  with  them.  A  bailiff  informed 
me  that  the  peasants  would  be  so  embarrassed  that 
they  would  not  sit  down  at  table  with  me  even  if 
he  took  me  into  the  houses. 

The  tillage  crops  and  the  livestock  were  usually 
of  the  best,  but  the  farm  implements  and  the 
methods  of  using  them  were  often  of  the  worst. 
In  a  hayfield  I  saw  a  man  leading  a  fine  horse 
which  was  hitched  to  a  spring-toothed,  self-dump- 
ing hay-rake — why  he  walked  I  could  not  dis- 
cover !  Near  by  two  women  were  rolling  up  the 
windrows  into  bunches  and  two  men  were  pitching 
them  onto  a  wagon  which  had  wheels  and  rack  so 
high  as  to  necessitate  pitching  the  last  of  the  load 
more  than  ten  feet  up !  There  were  two  loaders, 
two  women  raking  the  scatterings  of  the  pitchers, 
and  a  boy  leading  one  big  horse  hitched  to  the 
wagon.  It  must  be  said,  however,  that  that  load 
of  hay  was  as  trim  and  square-cornered  as  a  barn, 
when  it  reached  the  rick. 

I  visited  Laws  and  Gilbert's  wonderful  experi- 
ment farm  and  learned  much  as  to  methods  of 
experimentation  from  both  of  them.  It  was  a 


280  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

great  treat  to  see  with  what  broad  intelligence, 
infinite  patience  and  pains  they  carried  on  their 
work.  It  made  me  realize,  as  never  before,  what 
true  investigational  work  meant.  But  the  practical 
application  of  their  work  was  not  being  appreci- 
ated in  England  nor  did  the  farmers  appear  to 
be  able  to  interpret  the  results  in  terms  of  their 
own  activities. 

I  visited  also  the  sewage  farm  and  the  agricul- 
tural college  at  Seiencester  but  neither  of  them 
gave  me  any  valuable  information.  The  sewage 
farm  was  so  overstocked  with  weeds  and  filth  that 
one  could  not  admire  it.  If  the  farm  had  been  of 
nearly  pure  sand  instead  of  soil  lacking  porosity, 
the  vast  amount  of  sewage  might  have  been  dis- 
posed of  without  otfense  to  the  surrounding 
country. 

The  agricultural  college  of  which  I  had  heard 
my  colleague,  Dr.  Caldwell,  speak,  was  situated 
not  far  from  the  experiment  farm  of  Dr.  Laws 
where  Professor  Caldwell  had  studied  for  a  time. 
The  college  was  very  disappointing  for  I  had  read 
and  admired  many  works  on  English  agriculture 
and  where  I  had  hoped  to  learn  something  of  the 
best  methods  of  British  industry,  I  found,  instead, 
an  institution  struck  with  dry  rot. 


TRAVEL  IN  EUROPE  281 

In  addition  to  the  ten  days  given  to  the  study  of 
English  agriculture  while  driving  through  the  best 
agricultural  districts  and  going  from  town  to  town 
in  the  evenings  by  rail,  I  interviewed  many  country 
gentlemen  to  gain  a  clearer  idea  of  the  rural  life 
of  England.  Two  days  in  London  enabled  me  to 
take  a  second-story-bus  ride  down  Cheapside, 
visit  Kew  Gardens,  the  Parliament  House  and  the 
Bank;  to  ride  the  whole  length  of  the  two-penny 
tube,  to  see  Cleopatra's  Needle,  erected  on  the 
banks  of  the  Thames  and  to  eat  dinner  at  a  swell 
restaurant,  just  to  see  how  our  wealthy  cousins 
got  awuy  with  so  much  American  beef. 

In  France,  I  spent  about  one-half  my  time  in  the 
country  districts  and  since  everybody  knows  about 
beautiful  Paris,  I  shall  spare  the  reader  a  descrip- 
tion of  what  I  saw  there.  My  objective  point  in 
the  country  was  the  village  of  Nogent  le  Rotrou 
in  the  province  of  Eure  et  Loire,  the  center  of  the 
Percheron  horse  district.  While  selecting  four 
of  the  best  specimens  of  this  breed  to  take  ba'ck 
to  America,  I  had  opportunity  to  mingle  freely 
with  the  farmers  and  to  observe  their  modes  of 
life  and  thought.  The  country  round  about  was 
not  unlike  Tompkins  county,  New  York;  the  farms 
were  of  fair  size  and  the  fields  were  fenced  and 


282  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

used  for  growing  grass,  for  hay  and  pasture, 
wheat,  oats  and  similar  crops.  But  their  leading 
and  most  profitable  industry  was  the  rearing  of 
horses  for  the  city  market  and  for  export.  The 
work  stock  on  nearly  every  farm  consisted  of  brood 
mares  which  were  used  not  only  for  tilling  the 
land  but  for  raising  colts  as  well.  These  were 
usually  sold  when  old  enough  to  wean  for  from 
$100  to  $200  apiece.  Why  the  American  farmer 
does  not  adopt  this  practice  in  a  modified  form 
during  the  winter  months  when  the  work  stock  is 
idle,  is  more  than  I  can  figure  out,  since  we  have 
good  barns  and  often  plenty  of  preserved,  suc- 
culent forage  in  winter. 

In  the  fall  these  French  colts  are  sold,  the  fillies 
to  one  dealer  and  the  colts  to  another  who  may 
keep  them  for  from  one  to  three  years,  when  they 
are  again  sold  to  other  dealers  or  to  farmers  for 
use  on  the  light  sandy  land.  They  are  often  put 
to  work  at  two  years  of  age.  Sometimes  they  are 
sold  and  resold  several  times  while  they  are  being 
fitted  and  pushed  along  towards  their  final  destina- 
tion. The  lot  of  horses  which  I  first  inspected  con- 
sisted of  about  twenty  stallions  which  were  being 
used  occasionally  to  till  the  large  farm  and  all  of 
which  were  for  sale.  I  may  explain  that  in  France 


TRAVEL  IN  EUROPE  283 

it  is  not  customary  to  emasculate  the  males  nor  to 
keep  males  and  females  on  the  same  farm.  It  was 
very  confusing  at  first  to  see  so  many  stallions  of 
several  distinct  types,  for  I  did  not  know  the  exact 
type  of  the  breed  that  I  wished  to  buy.  At  the 
very  first  farm  at  which  we  stopped  the  farmer 
tried  to  bribe  my  interpreter  —  an  old  acquaint- 
ance of  mine  who  was  then  residing  in  France; 
but  finally,  after  much  inspection  of  farms,  much 
horse-talk  and  bantering,  for  the  Percheron  horse- 
man is  a  French  Yankee,  I  bought  four  young 
animals  at  a  cost  of  $725  apiece. 

Near  the  village  where  we  were  stopping  there 
was  an  old  castle  perched  on  a  bluff,  three  sides 
of  which  were  rocky  and  precipitous.  The  old 
moat  —  now  waterless  —  draw-bridge  and  the 
portcullis  were  all  there ;  and  the  castle  —  dark, 
damp  and  dingy  —  in  charge  of  a  keeper,  made 
one  feel 

"  Like  one  who  treads  alone  some  banquet  hall  deserted 
Where  lights  are  blown  and  guests  have  flown 
And  all  but  me  departed." 

It  reminded  me  through  what  sorrow,  stress  and 
crime  humanity  had  passed  before  it  learned  to 
place  any  real  value  on  love  and  justice.  There 
at  the  bottom  of  that  moat  lay  the  bones  of  many 


284  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

a  brave  man,  bent  on  robbery  or  reprisal,  or  per- 
haps on  rude  justice.  I  came  away  from  it  with 
a  sad  heart  and  I  had  no  desire  to  visit  another 
castle. 

It  appeared  to  me  that  the  people  of  France 
whom  I  saw  might  be  roughly  divided  into  three 
types :  first,  the  dwellers  at  Paris  —  small,  dapper, 
polite,  pleasure-loving;  second,  the  peasants  who 
live  in  small  villages  not  far  from  the  cities  and 
till  their  little  ribbony  strips  of  land  by  manual 
labor,  who  were  lacking  in  enterprise  and  intelli- 
gence; their  lives  being  uneventful  and  circum- 
scribed there  was  little  opportunity  to  break  loose 
or  to  do  things  in  a  large  way  —  in  short  they  ap- 
peared to  be  on  a  dead  level.  Third,  those  living 
on  the  larger  farms  remote  from  centers  of  popu- 
lation—  particularly  those  engaged  in  the  produc- 
tion of  livestock  —  who  were  large  of  frame, 
virile,  progressive  and  the  reverse  of  dandified. 
These  were  more  like  the  Friesians  who  boast 
that  they  were  never  in  bondage  to  any  man. 

Just  now  much  is  being  written  about  small 
farms  and  their  economic  value.  When  discuss- 
ing this  matter  with  a  friend  who  is  keeping  a 
large  stationery  and  sporting-goods  store,  and  who 
employs  seven  clerks,  I  asked  him  what  would  be 


TRAVEL  IN  EUROPE  285 

the  result  if  he  should  divide  his  business  into  eight 
stores  and  place  them  under  as  many  separate 
owners.  Without  hesitation  he  answered:  "  We 
would  all  live  on  half  rations  or  fail."  So  it  is  in 
farming:  if  for  no  other  reason,  economy  of  effort 
forbids  cutting  the  land  into  holdings  the  size  of 
those  in  the  Isle  of  Jersey  and  of  some  portions  of 
France.  This  is  the  day  of  energy,  other  than 
that  contained  in  muscle  and  he  who  pits  his  mere 
physical  powers  against  horse,  steam  and  electric- 
ity must  fall  far  behind  and  be  content  with  little. 
But  small  as  well  as  large  farms  have  their  place 
in  a  country  so  diversified  in  agricultural  produc- 
tions and  wants  as  is  America. 

THE  SOUTH  : 

As  I  was  bidding  Mrs.  Roberts  goodby  on  leav- 
ing for  my  summer  in  Europe  I  remarked  that  I 
supposed  it  was  my  duty  to  go  to  Europe  but  I 
would  much  prefer  to  go  to  New  Orleans.  From 
my  boyhood  this  Southern  city  had  taken  a  hold 
on  my  imagination.  When  I  was  just  a  little  lad 
one  night  when  stories  were  being  related  around 
the  fireside  someone  told  this  one: 

"Once  on  a  time  a  grocer  purchased  a  barrel  of 
New  Orleans  molasses.  After  he  had  sold  a  part  of  it 
the  molasses  ceased  to  run.  Knowing  that  the  barrel 


286  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

\ 

was  not  yet  empty  he  broke  in  the  head  and  found 
the  toe  of  a  negro  in  the  spigot  hole!  " 

This  seems  to  be  a  gruesome  and  silly  story  but 
it  must  be  remembered  that  slavery  was  then  con- 
stantly in  mind  and  many  stories  of  its  brutality 
were  current.  I  presume  that  many  of  them  were 
untrue  or  exaggerated  but  how  was  I,  a  little 
country  boy,  to  know  that  any  more  than  that  the 
stories  of  the  boatmen  on  the  Erie  Canal  were  of 
the  unsalted  variety!  Anyway,  I  wondered  and 
wondered  why  they  cut  off  the  darkies'  toes.  After 
I  went  to  bed  I  would  picture  the  scene  and  no 
other  foolish  little  story  ever  so  aroused  my 
imagination  as  this  one.  I  determined  when  I 
should  be  grown  up,  to  visit  New  Orleans  and 
find  out  all  about  all  these  horrid  practices.  As 
the  years  went  on  and  sectional  strife  increased, 
my  desire  grew  until  New  Orleans  was  the  one  city 
in  the  whole  world  I  most  wanted  to  see. 

A  few  years  after  my  return  from  Europe  when 
War  and  a  clearer  understanding  of  our  national 
differences  had  tempered  my  judgment,  I  found 
myself  on  a  bitter-cold  February  night  in  the 
eighties,  in  Chicago,  aboard  of  a  Pullman  car 
headed  for  New  Orleans.  As  I  laid  away  my 
overshoes  and  top-coat  I  remarked  to  my  wife 


TRAVEL  IN  EUROPE  287 

that  with  them  I  put  away  my  prejudices.  I  have 
never  spent  a  more  satisfactory  day  in  my  life 
than  that  first  day  in  New  Orleans,  viewing  the 
celebrated  Mardi  Gras.  As  no  other  of  my  youth- 
ful desires  had  held  me  more  firmly,  so  no  other 
gave  me  more  satisfaction  in  the  realization. 
While  spending  many  hours  at  the  great  levees 
watching  the  army  of  roustabouts  discharging  and 
loading  ships,  I  pondered  much  on  the  question 
what  place  the  negroes  could  justly  fill  in  an  ad- 
vancing civilization.  What  more  I  saw  and 
learned  about  the  negro  problem  will  not  interest 
you  since  I  found  no  solution  for  its  difficulties. 

From  New  Orleans  we  went  to  the  land  of 
"  Evangeline ; "  saw  the  *  Cadians  and  visited  the 
great  sugar  plantations  near  the  border  of  Lake 
Pontchartrain  where  the  water  ran  away  from  the 
bayous  and  rivers  instead  of  toward  them.  While 
inspecting  a  great  cane-crushing  machine  my  friend 
put  his  hand  on  the  piston  and  remarked  that  it 
had  cost  him  $10,000.  He  explained  that  one 
year  in  the  midst  of  the  cane  harvest,  the  piston 
broke  and  the  engine  and  a  man  to  go  with  it  were 
immediately  placed  on  a  steamer  for  New  Or- 
leans; it  was  ten  days  before  it  could  be  repaired 
and  the  machinery  set  going  again  and  during  that 


288  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

time  a  severe  freeze  came  on  and  the  cane  which 
would  have  been  worked  but  for  this  weather,  was 
lost.  This  mill  was  usually  run  day  and  night  and 
the  quantity  of  cane  which  could  be  passed  through 
it  was  almost  beyond  belief;  and  it  and  the  six-mule 
team  hitched  to  the  largest  plow  I  had  then  seen, 
made  farming  in  the  North  seem  quite  in- 
significant. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  fully  the  two  widely 
different  kinds  of  agriculture  in  the  South.  One 
is  planned  on  a  very  large  scale  in  districts  which 
are  most  productive,  the  other  is,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  peasant  farming,  conducted  on 
"patches"  many  of  which  are  of  irregular  shape 
and  size  and  often  seamed  and  gullied  by  reason 
of  the  lack  of  grass  roots  and  humus  and  by  the 
peculiar  physical  condition  of  the  land  and  heavy 
rainfall.  Large  areas  of  land  appear  so  forlorn, 
so  wrinkled  with  the  creases  of  the  plow  and  so 
tired  with  raising  cotton,  that  they  have  lost  all 
agricultural  and  sylvan  charm.  Some  friends 
travelling  in  March,  1910,  from  New  Orleans  to 
San  Francisco  via  the  Southern  Pacific,  wrote  me 
that  after  more  than  a  thousand  miles  of  such 
land  they  thought  it  merely  useful  to  "  hold  the 
country  together." 


TRAVEL  IN  EUROPE  289 

My  visit  to  Petit  Ance  —  Avery  Island  —  Salt 
Island  —  had  nothing  to  do  with  agriculture  at  the 
time  but  it  did  result  in  the  introduction  of  the 
Holstein-Friesian  cattle  into  that  wet  prairie 
country  which  is  near  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Salt 
Island  had  once  been  heavily  wooded  and  was  an 
island  only  at  unusually  high  tide.  It  owed  its 
name  to  a  curious  circumstance.  The  owner  of 
the  Island  upon  joining  the  Confederate  Army 
left  a  boy  of  twelve  at  home  in  charge.  When 
salt  became  very  scarce  the  lad  conceived  the  idea 
of  boiling  the  water  which  trickled  from  the  deer- 
lick  or  spring  hole  to  get  salt.  At  first  a  single 
sugar  kettle  was  used,  afterward,  when  it  proved 
a  success,  several  others  were  put  in  place  and  a 
considerable  quantity  of  salt  was  obtained.  The 
slightly  salty  water  was  thus  soon  exhausted  and 
the  father  returning  home  just  then,  set  workmen 
to  digging  a  shallow  well.  When  a  depth  of  about 
twelve  feet  was  reached  they  struck  rock  and  Mr. 
Avery  asking  that  a  piece  of  the  rock  be  thrown 
up  to  him,  instinctively  tasted  it,  to  discover  that 
it  was  pure  rock  salt !  The  surface  dirt  was  then 
scraped  away  and  the  salt  was  mined  in  the  crudest 
manner.  Then  General  Butler,  having  heard  of 
the  mine,  sent  a  gunboat  into  Vermillion  Bay, 
10 


290  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

shelled  the  Island  and  held  possession  of  it  until 
the  end  of  the  Civil  War. 

When  peace  came,  Mr.  Avery  contracted  with  a 
New  York  firm  to  open  and  work  the  mine.  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  standing  in  that  great  under- 
ground, dome-like  room  which  was  about  twenty 
feet  high  and  more  than  forty  feet  in  diameter, 
where  salt,  pure-white  and  glistening  was  beneath, 
above  and  on  all  sides.  Large  blocks  and  cubes 
of  salt  were  being  blasted  from  the  sides  and  ceil- 
ing, so  large  that  they  had  to  be  broken  up  before 
they  could  be  lifted  to  the  surface.  There  they 
were  passed  through  a  corn-mill  and  ground  fine 
or  coarse  as  desired.  A  railway  has  now  been  built 
from  the  main  line  to  the  salt-mine,  a  distance  of 
about  ten  miles. 

I  am  reminded  by  this  of  the  other  tales  I  have 
heard  of  the  difficulty  of  procuring  salt  during 
war  times.  The  father  of  one  of  my  students 
who  lived  at  Laurens,  South  Carolina  —  a  man 
who  had  dug  up  the  lead  pipe  which  served  to 
carry  water  from  a  hydraulic  ram  to  his  house  and 
sent  it  to  the  army  to  be  melted  up  into  bullets  — 
when  they  could  no  longer  get  salt,  leached  the 
earth  in  the  smoke-house  from  which  a  small  but 
very  impure  supply  was  obtained.  When  even  this 


TRAVEL  IN  EUROPE  291 

gave  out  the  oldest  boy  drove  a  long  distance  to 
the  seashore,  boiled  down  sea  water  and  brought 
back  a  small  quantity  of  very  bitter  salt. 

Petit  Ance  —  Salt  Island  —  bordered  on  good 
fishing  grounds  and  as  it  was  the  only  elevated 
timber  land  for  many  miles,  it  was  the  natural 
place  for  an  Indian  village.  This  brings  to  my 
mind  an  interesting  legend  connected  with  the 
Island.  It  seems  that  when  white  men  first  came 
to  this  region  they  asked  the  Indians  who  lived  on 
it.  The  Indians  replied,  The  Evil  Spirit,  and  said 
that  neither  they  nor  the  white  men  would  go 
there.  The  legend  which  had  come  down  to  them 
was  that  once  upon  a  time  the  Evil  Spirit  got 
angry,  made  a  great  noise  and  then  killed  all  the 
people  on  the  Island.  This  points,  no  doubt,  to 
some  volcanic  disturbance  in  early  times  —  which 
prevented  the  Indians  from  returning  to  live  there. 

When  the  shafts  were  being  sunk  for  the  saft 
mines  there  were  found  pieces  of  symmetrically 
woven  basket  work  along  with  charcoal,  ashes  and 
many  pieces  of  burned  and  rudely  decorated 
earthenware.  While  I  was  there  such  pieces  were 
being  brought  up  from  which  I  selected  some 
pretty  specimens.  The  owner  of  the  Island  be- 
lieved that  many  Indians  must  once  have  lived 


292  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

there  who  had  been  driven  out  by  a  cataclysm  and 
that  this  had  furnished  the  basis  for  the  legend, 
and  this  theory  was  corroborated  by  the  fact  that 
the  salt-rock  stopped  abruptly  below  as  though  it 
had  been  broken  off  from  a  deeper  bed  and  thrust 
up  as  a  "  fault." 


SECTION  IV 
CALIFORNIA  AND  THE  WESTERING  SUN 

(1903) 


CALIFORNIA  AND  THE  WESTERING  SUN* 

In  accordance  with  the  rules  of  the  Trustees  of 
Cornell  University,  I  retired  in  June,  1903,  after 
almost  thirty  years  of  continuous  service  and  with 
the  honorary  title  of  Professor  Emeritus.  After 
selling  and  dismantling  the  house  on  East  Avenue, 
Campus,  in  which  we  had  lived  for  twenty-four 
years,  we  went  to  Palo  Alto,  California  —  the  seat 
of  Stanford  University  —  where  my  daughter  and 
my  elder  son  were  living. 

While  Mrs.  Roberts  and  our  daughter  went  to 
Honolulu  for  a  few  months,  I  superintended  the 
erection  of  a  large  two-story  bungalow  at  1148 
Bryant  street  in  this  pleasant  little  College  town. 
In  this  commodious  dwelling  Mrs.  Roberts  and  I 
spent  eleven  years;  and  owing  to  the  neighborli- 
ness  of  several  professors  who  had  been  Cornell 
students  and  the  nearness  of  our  three  children 
and  their  families,  we  were  able  to  adjust  our- 
selves happily  to  this  radical  change  of  environ- 
ment. 

Until  I  was  finally  established  in  Palo  Alto  I 
had  not  fully  realized  how  much  I  needed  rest 

*  Refers  chiefly  to  northern  and  central  California. 
[295] 


296  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

after  so  many  years  of  strenuous  activity.  During 
the  whole  fifty  years  of  manhood  I  had  taken 
scarcely  more  than  a  few  months  vacation  alto- 
gether. I  might  perhaps  have  continued  some 
line  of  agriculture  in  California  after  I  had  had  a 
good  rest,  but  I  determined  at  that  time  to  devote 
the  remainder  of  my  life  to  light,  healthful  out- 
door work  in  order  to  keep  physically  fit;  and  in 
lending  a  helpful  hand  to  those  who  had  not  been 
so  fortunate  as  I  had  been. 

For  I  have  been  exceptionally  fortunate  both  in 
my  family  life  with  the  one  woman  of  my  choice 
and  with  the  three  children  whom  we  lovingly 
reared  together  and  who  remained  to  gladden  our 
declining  years.  And  no  less  happy  in  the  pro- 
fession which  chose  me  so  early  in  life  and  which 
has  always  seemed  to  me  the  finest  in  the  world 
and  the  only  one  for  which  I  was  by  nature  fitted. 

By  old-fashioned  thrift  Mrs.  Roberts  and  I 
had  accumulated  a  little  capital  at  the  time  we 
went  to  Cornell  in  1874.  My  salary  was  then 
$2,200  which  was  gradually  raised  to  $3,000  per 
year.  As  time  went  on  I  received  another  $500 
as  Director  of  the  Federal  Experiment  Station; 
$500  from  the  State  appropriation  for  the  pro- 
motion of  Agricultural  Science  and  had  perquisites 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     297 

incident  to  my  position  which  were  probably  worth 
$500  more.  Thus  during  the  later  years  I  was  re- 
ceiving the  equivalent  of  $4,500  per  year.  The 
cost  of  living  was  much  less  than  now-a-days ;  our 
habits  of  life  were  simple  and,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  we  gave  our  children  every  educational  ad- 
vantage, we  always  saved  something  as  we  went 
along.  By  judicious  investments,  mostly  in  first 
mortgages  on  small  properties  at  moderate  in- 
terest, I  have  amassed  in  the  course  of  my  life 
about  $60,000,  all  of  which  I  have  now  given  to 
my  children.  After  I  left  Cornell  the  Carnegie 
Foundation  gave  me  a  pension  of  $1,700  a  year. 
It  is  now  the  joke  among  them  that  "  Father  can- 
not spend  his  income  "  for  I  find  my  pension  more 
than  enough  for  my  needs  and  am  again  accumu- 
lating a  little  in  the  bank. 

I  was  more  fortunate  than  many  present-day 
professors,  in  receiving  a  fair  salary  quite  early  in 
life  and  still  more  so  to  be  among  the  first  Ameri- 
can teachers  to  have  my  services  recognized  by  a 
substantial  pension.  I  cannot  help  observing  that 
if  all  young  professors  and  their  wives  were  as 
careful  as  we  were,  they  might  also  launch  their 
children  modestly  in  spite  of  the  increased  cost  of 
living  and  the  generally  higher  standard  in  this 
modern  day. 


298  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

In  the  summer  of  1905  my  son  Roger  and  I 
built  for  investment  three  cottages  in  the  village 
of  Sunnyvale,  nine  miles  southeast  of  Palo  Alto, 
doing  practically  all  the  work  ourselves  except  the 
plastering,  plumbing  and  wiring.  This  work  I 
greatly  enjoyed.  The  drive  of  forty-five  minutes 
morning  and  evening  behind  a  good  roadster  and 
the  seven  hours  carpentering,  gave  me  a  new  lease 
on  life.  What  joy  in  eating  and  sleeping  when  one 
has  done  a  good  day's  work ! 

Although  I  was  getting  rested  my  general  health 
was  not  very  good  and  after  nearly  a  year's  treat- 
ment by  my  family  physician  I  went  in  1907  to 
Lane  Hospital  in  San  Francisco  for  a  capital  op- 
eration. In  about  six  weeks  I  was  able  to  return 
home  but  it  was  more  than  a  year  before  I  was 
able  to  walk  with  ease  and  meanwhile  I  had  to 
have  plates  to  support  the  arches  of  my  feet  which 
had  broken  down  because  of  my  weakness.  This 
operation  cost  me  $750  and  with  the  additional 
charges  for  nursing  and  hospital  care  the  total 
bill  amounted  to  about  $1,400.  I  am  tempted  to 
digress  to  comment  on  the  situation  of  a  poor  man 
under  similar  circumstances. 

Although  I  had  many  opportunities  to  observe 
agriculture  on  the  Pacific  Coast  during  my  first 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     299 

years  here  I  did  not  take  much  interest  in  my  life- 
long occupation  until  after  I  recovered  my  health. 
I  did  return,  however,  to  Cornell  in  1905  and  1906 
to  deliver  short  courses  of  lectures ;  and  also  gave 
two  short  courses  at  the  Polytechnic  School  at  San 
Luis  Obispo,  California.  Later,  in  1912  and 
I9l3i  while  my  son  Roger  was  Manager  of  the 
University  Farm  at  Davis  I  gave  short  courses 
there ;  and  during  the  winter  and  spring  I  gave  one 
parlor  lecture  a  week  to  six  mature  men,  teachers 
in  High  Schools,  who  wished  to  prepare  them- 
selves for  teaching  agriculture  in  secondary 
schools.  Four  of  the  six  were  made  principals  of 
schools  the  next  year  and  they  were  kind  enough 
to  say  they  thought  their  course  with  me  had 
helped  them  to  this  promotion.  This  summer 
(1915)  I  read  a  paper  on  "The  Trend  of  Agri- 
cultural Practise,"  before  the  Association  for  the 
Promotion  of  Agricultural  Science  at  their  annual 
meeting  which  was  held  in  connection  with  the 
Panama-Pacific  Exposition  Congresses  at  Berke- 
ley. At  this  meeting  there  were  about  forty  of 
my  former  colleagues  and  students,  all  of  whom 
are  engaged  in  some  line  of  Agricultural  Science; 
and  it  made  me  feel  that  I  am  indeed,  what  people 
have  sometimes  called  me  —  "  The  Father  of  Agri- 
cultural Science.1' 


300  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

I  have  been  asked  many  times  "  What  do  you 
think  of  California  ?  "  And  I  have  to  answer  that 
it  is  in  many  ways  the  most  wonderful  State  in  the 
Union.  The  unending  variety  of  soil,  climate, 
aspect  and  people,  makes  it  difficult,  indeed  im- 
possible, to  give  an  adequate  description  of  this 
land  which  borders  the  sinuous  shore  of  the  Pacific 
for  nearly  2,000  miles.  It  contains  more  than 
157,000  square  miles  and  as  to  heat  and  cold,  all 
the  climates  of  the  habitable  world.  In  a  few 
places  for  many  successive  days  Honest  Old 
Fahrenheit  may  record  from  100  to  125  degrees 
but  you  don't  have  to  stay  there  for  you  can  motor, 
if  you  like,  a  hundred  miles  or  so,  enjoying  the 
scenery,  and  land  in  a  snowbank  a  century  old. 
On  the  way  back  from  your  joyride  you  may  select 
a  ranch  anywhere  between  these  two  extremes. 
Yes,  you  may  select  your  climate  and  your  farm 
—  anywhere  from  10  to  10,000  acres  —  whereon 
to  expend  your  enthusiasm,  your  brains,  your 
brawn  —  and  your  ducats. 

You  can  choose  land  where  you  would  be  com- 
pelled to  grow  the  "  Kids"  by  moral  suasion  for 
there  would  be  no  beech  or  birch  within  a  hundred 
miles;  or  you  may  take  to  the  timber  country  and 
dwell  comfortably  in  a  hollow  redwood  tree.  If 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     301 

you  are  a  little  uppish  and  decline  to  live  in  the 
basement  of  a  tree-house  300  feet  high,  you  may 
choose  a  knoll  "  with  a  view,"  in  the  abruptly  roll- 
ing forest  lands  from  which  you  may  cut  50,000 
feet  of  merchantable  "  Oregon  Pine  "  per  acre. 
Or  you  may  locate  by  the  river  bank  and  till  the 
rich  alluvial  bottomland;  and  provided  you  have 
a  safe  retreat  above  the  melted  snow  which  comes 
down  in  the  spring,  you  may  have  without  charge 
a  glorious  water-view  perhaps  ten  to  twenty  miles 
in  breadth. 

Then  there  is  the  "  Hog-wallow'*  land  which 
costs  less  than  the  river  bottoms,  upon  which  you 
can  spend  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  dollars  in 
levelling  so  that  it  can  be  flooded  for  the  cultiva- 
tion of  rice  which  is  becoming  common  in  the  in- 
land valleys  of  the  State. 

And  this  reminds  me  of  the  Legend  of  Hog- 
wallowland.  Once  in  prehistoric  times  there  was 
a  genus  of  swine  with  noses  so  long  that  they 
could  stand  on  one  side  of  a  river  —  provided  it 
was  not  too  wide  —  and  root  up  the  sweet  flag 
in  the  soft  marsh  on  the  other  side.  In  size  they 
were  between  a  rhinoceros  and  an  elephant;  and 
belonged  to  the  one-toed  pachyderms,  being  cov- 
ered with  bristles  about  the  length  and  size  of  a 


302  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

lead  pencil.  When  they  became  violently  enraged 
they  could  erect  their  long,  stiff  sharp  spikes  and 
thus  protect  themselves  from  their  smaller  and 
more  active  enemies.  These  swine  did  not  live  in 
the  marshes  but  on  dry  land  but  when  it  rained 
they  wallowed  freely  and  in  this  way,  it  is  said, 
the  hog-wallow  land  was  given  its  present  uneven 
contour. 

Did  you  ever  see  any  hog-wallow  land?  Well, 
if  you  had  you  would  have  given  it  a  bad  name. 
However,  if  not  too  much  impregnated  with  alkali 
it  may  be  made,  when  levelled,  to  yield  prolific 
crops  of  rice.  The  semi-rock  hardpan  near  the 
surface  conserves  the  waters  of  irrigation ;  and,  if 
holes  are  blasted,  there  are  many  varieties  of 
orchard  trees  which  will  thrive  on  the  plant  food 
which  lies  below  the  hardpan. 

I  will  describe  but  one  more  kind  of  California 
soil  which  the  Native  Sons  tell  me  can  be  plowed 
and  tilled  with  perfect  satisfaction  for  only  about 
ten  days  in  the  year.  This  soil  is  called  "Adobe." 
That's  Spanish  for  unburned  brick ;  and  when  you 
want  to  turn  your  farm  into  a  brickyard  all  you 
have  to  do  is  to  plow  the  land  when  it  is  wet,  shape 
the  brick,  let  them  lie  in  the  sun  awhile,  and  build 
your  house. 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     303 

Between  this  heavy  adobe  and  the  drifting  sands 
of  the  semi-arid  districts  there  are  many  varieties 
of  soil  which  if  suitably  tilled  and  artificially  sup- 
plied with  moisture  when  necessary,  may  be  made 
to  produce  enormous  crops.  These  large  yields, 
often  four  or  five  times  the  average,  are  not  un- 
common in  the  better  districts,  but  the  new  comer 
should  base  his  expectations  on  the  even  keel  of 
the  average  for  a  series  of  years. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  of  California  soil  is  the 
extreme  variations  which  often  occur  within  a  few 
rods  —  variations  due  to  prehistoric  geologic 
causes  into  which  I  need  not  go  here.  The  de- 
scriptions given  above  may  be  a  little  ironical  and 
perhaps  not  scientific  but  the  landseeker  will  be 
likely  to  get  clearer  ideas  from  them  than  from 
the  latest  geological  disquisition.  In  any  case  it 
is  intended  to  warn  him  that  on  the  Pacific  Coast 
he  would  better  inquire  and  listen  and  wait  before 
purchasing  land;  and  then  wait  awhile  longer  and 
secure  some  more  facts  before  buying  farm  lands 
at  the  very  high  prices  now  asked  for  them. 

Anyone  familiar  with  eastern  agriculture  and 
the  farming  of  the  Middle  West  finds  a  sharp  con- 
trast in  some  of  the  practises  which  prevail  in 
California.  If  you  chance  to  drop  off  at  any 


304  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

thriving  village  or  "  city " —  as  many  modest 
towns  are  called  out  here  —  you  will  dis- 
cover that  every  second  man  you  meet  owns  a 
"  ranch."  In  a  few  minutes'  conversation  you  will 
discover  also  that  his  holding  consists  of  only  two, 
five,  ten  or  at  most  twenty  acres  and  that  it  is  for 
sale  or  for  trade,  for  cash  or  other  equities.  When 
I  first  came  to  California  it  seemed  to  me  that 
everybody's  place  was  for  sale ;  which  is  merely  to 
say  that  the  Californian  is  adventurous  and  ready 
always  to  move  on  to  something  new. 

If  his  ranch  is  bare  land  he  prices  it  at  $150  to 
$200  per  acre;  if  set  to  trees  or  vines  at  $300  to 
$350;  if  there  is  a  habitable  house,  a  shack  of  a 
stable  and  a  well,  the  price  will  run  from  $350  to 
$450;  and  if  the  plantings  are  in  full  bearing  and 
all  the  necessary  appliances  are  on  hand  for  irri- 
gating, tilling,  harvesting  and  marketing  the  crop, 
the  price  will  be  $600  to  $1,000  per  acre.  This 
figure  may  include  several  hundred  or  perhaps  a 
thousand  trays,  boxes  and  the  like,  for  everything 
—  even  the  work  stock,  cows  and  chickens  —  goes 
with  the  land.  As  our  forbears  would  have  said: 
"All  the  hereditaments  thereunto  belonging." 
When  a  Californian  sells  out  he  takes  only  his 
household  goods  with  him. 


PROFESSOR    ROBERTS    ox    HIS    SEVENTY-FIFTH    BIRTHDAY 
At  his  son's  ranch,  Yuba  City,  Cal. 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     305 

To  illustrate  the  high  values  of  small  ranches 
I  may  give  a  few  specific  instances.  Only  the  other 
day  when  I  wanted  to  sell  a  small  house  and  lot  in 
town  I  telephoned  to  my  friend  the  ProfessoY  who 
owns  a  fruit  ranch  in  the  Santa  Clara  Valley  and 
asked  if  he  could  not  trade  my  place  for  such 
property.  I  expected  to  give  something  to  boot 

—  for  ten  acres  is  enough  even  for  me  now  —  but 
back  came  his  answer  instantly:     "  Oh  no,  Pro- 
fessor !    That  Santa  Clara  land  is  too  high-priced 

—  $600  per  acre  at  least.    Why,  I've  been  offered 
$500  per  acre  for  my  own  ranch  of  80  acres,  sixty 
of  it  in  prunes,  cherries,  peaches,  olives  and  Eng- 
lish walnuts,  some  of  which  are  not  yet  in  bear- 
ing! "    Incidentally  I  may  remark  that  many  pro- 
fessors and  school  teachers  in  this  country,  and 
some  ministers  own  such  home  places. 

A  few  years  ago  my  son  and  I  were  interested 
in  producing  seedless  raisins  in  Sutter  County. 
The  first  year  raisins  were  sold  for  five  cents  per 
pound  and  the  gross  receipts  from  them  was 
$3,000;  the  second  year  the  price  was  nine  cents 
and  gross  receipts  $4,000;  the  third  year,  at  six 
cents  per  pound  the  gross  receipts  were  $3,550. 
About  one-half  of  the  receipts  goes  for  labor  et 
cetera  and  the  other  half  for  the  use  of  the  land 


306  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

and  equipment.  This  forty  acres  (30  in  vines) 
was  sold  for  $9,000.  Some  of  the  neighbors  did 
better  than  this  and  some  not  so  well  —  I  judge 
that  this  was  a  fair  average. 

Farming  in  California  comes  the  nearest  to 
gambling  of  anything  I  have  yet  tried  and  even 
at  that  it  is  better  than  gold  mining.  Professor 

B asked  a  California  ranchman  if  raising 

cherries  was  profitable.  "  Well,"  replied  the 
rancher,  "  I  made  one  crop  which  paid  me  the  full 
value  of  the  orchard  and  I  have  never  kept  any 
accounts  since."  And  yet  while  travelling  through 
this  same  district  I  have  observed  that  most  of  the 
cherry  trees  had  the  "  die-back  "  and  were  scarcely 
better  than  soil-robbers.  There  are  a  few  re- 
stricted areas  where  cherries  do  well  and  when 
they  do  well,  they  do  very,  very  well ;  but  when  the 
district  is  not  adapted  to  them  they  do  nothing  at 
all.  What  is  true  of  cherries  is  measurably  true 
of  most  other  fruits,  especially  of  apples.  This 
again  illustrates  the  extreme  variableness  of  the 
soils  in  this  country. 

The  Santa  Clara  Valley,  agriculturally  speak- 
ing, is  about  fifty  miles  long  and  ten  miles  wide, 
and  is  the  home  of  the  prune.  Prunes  are  sold  by 
an  established  standard,  eighty  to  the  pound  being 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     307 

the  base.  Just  now  they  are  selling  at  the  packing 
houses  for  $100  per  ton;  703  would  sell  for  $110 
and  6os  for  $120  per  ton;  while  905  would  be 
worth  $90,  loos  $80  per  ton  and  lois  $79  per  ton. 
That  is,  the  price  rises  or  falls  $i  per  ton  for  each 
point.  At  the  packing  houses  they  are  washed, 
softened,  packed  and  shipped  East  in  carload  lots. 
The  jobber,  the  railroad,  the  wholesaler  and  the 
retailer  take  their  toll  of  the  price  and  the  con- 
sumer ultimately  pays  three  times  as  much  as  the 
producer  receives.  The  only  way  for  the  consumer 
to  reduce  this  price  is  to  come  to  the  Santa  Clara 
Valley  and  eat  prunes  off  the  trees  for  they  retail 
here  in  California  at  a  price  only  slightly  lower 
than  in  Chicago.  Prunes  from  other  districts 
bring  a  half  a  cent  less  per  pound  as  a  rule.  The 
yield  per  acre  of  dried  prunes  varies  widely  but 
ignoring  the  extremes,  it  may  be  put  down  at  one 
to  one  and  three-quarters  tons  per  acre  for  which 
the  ranchers  are  now  receiving  five  cents  per 
pound.  A  good  bearing  orchard  with  buildings 
and  equipment  has  recently  sold  for  $600  per  acre. 
The  two  great  farming  valleys  of  the  State  — 
there  are  hundreds  of  smaller  ones  —  are  the 
Sacramento  and  the  San  Joaquin  (pronounced  San 
Wah-keen).  The  head  waters  of  the  Sacramento 


308  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

are  found  at  snow-capped  Mount  Shasta,  325  miles 
away  and  it  receives  the  tumultuous  waters  of 
several  smaller  rivers  which  take  their  rise  in  the 
higher  Sierras.  All  these  rivers  coming  down 
from  the  north  and  northeast  furnish  abundant 
water  —  in  springtime  often  too  abundant  —  and 
have  played  an  important  part  in  soil  formation. 
They  still  play  a  great  part  in  crop  production  and 
in  some  places  have  to  be  restrained  by  levees. 
Much  of  this  diking  has  been  made  necessary 
by  extensive  hydraulic  and  dredger  mining  on  the 
upper  reaches  of  the  rivers  which  tend  to  fill  the 
riverbeds  with  slickings.  When  the  dikes  break 
and  the  river  overflows  the  slickings  may  be  de- 
posited on  farmlands  and  do  great  damage  even 
to  the  extent  of  throwing  the  land  wholly  out  of 
cultivation. 

Formerly  grain  raising  was  the  almost  universal 
occupation  of  the  ranchers  but  now  orchards,  vine- 
yards and  alfalfa  largely  occupy  the  land  once  de- 
voted to  wheat  production.  In  1900  twenty-eight 
and  a  half  millions  of  bushels  of  wheat  were  raised 
in  California  but  in  1913  the  production  was  only 
a  little  over  4,000,000.  Most  of  the  cereals  are 
raised  without  irrigation  and  barley  is  still  raised 
in  large  quantities.  In  1913  over  33,000,000 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     309 

bushels  were  produced  much  of  which,  crushed, 
was  fed  to  domestic  animals.  Very  little  is  used 
within  the  State  for  malting  but  more  than  seven- 
teen and  a  half  million  bushels  were  exported. 
The  average  price  at  the  farm  last  December  was 
sixty-eight  cents  per  bushel. 

As  a  rule  the  grain-raiser  does  not  till  his  land 
nearly  so  well  as  the  fruit-raiser.  This  is  partly 
due  to  the  fact  that  not  so  much  income  can  be 
secured  from  grain  and  not  so  much  capital  has  to 
be  invested  to  raise  it;  and  partly  because  orchards 
and  vineyards  may  be  intro-tilled  throughout  the 
growing  season.  I  have  never  seen  better  tillage 
than  most  of  the  orchards  and  vineyards  receive 
in  California.  No  rain  falls  during  the  period  of 
surface  tillage  and  therefore  every  weed  may  be 
destroyed  and  a  fine  earth-mulch  maintained  by 
which  moisture  is  conserved  up  to  the  time  of 
harvest. 

The  acreage  devoted  to  alfalfa  is  rapidly  in- 
creasing. Three  to  five  mowings  may  be  secured 
each  season  with  an  average  yield  of  a  ton  per 
acre  to  each  cutting.  Milch  cows  and  dairying  are 
also  rapidly  increasing  and  it  may  be  hoped  that 
the  alfalfa  and  the  cows  will  stop  the  excessive  soil 
depletion  which  is  the  result  of  the  grain-raising 


310  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

of  the  past  thirty  years.  It  is  important  that  this 
great  valley  of  the  Sacramento  —  an  area  as  large 
as  the  State  of  New  York  —  should  be  saved  from 
further  soil  depletion  and  its  productive  value 
maintained  that  the  children  and  grandchildren 
of  California  may  have  as  fair  an  opportunity  as 
their  forbears  had. 

The  Sacramento  Valley  has  more  rainfall,  a 
darker-colored  and  more  uniform  soil  than  the  San 
Joaquin  Valley  and  its  soil  retains  moisture  well. 
Both  valleys  are  well  suited  to  the  production  of 
beans  especially  the  smaller  varieties  and  that  too, 
without  irrigation.  Beans  are  the  most  staple  crop 
that  can  be  used  to  form  a  rotation  and  can  be 
planted  in  May  and  will  grow  all  summer  without 
irrigation.  In  1913  over  three  million  bushels 
edible  beans  were  produced,  but  Michigan  still 
leads  with  a  production  of  more  than  four  million 
six  hundred  thousand.  Between  1900  and  1910 
New  York  increased  its  bean  product  by  23  per 
cent,  Michigan  by  192  per  cent  and  California  by 
405  per  cent  —  in  another  decade  California  will 
doubtless  be  ahead. 

Rice  was  introduced  into  the  United  States  in 
1647  by  Sir  William  Berkeley  and  into  California 
a  half  a  century  ago ;  but  until  six  years  ago  it  was 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     311 

not  produced  in  quantities  sufficient  to  indicate  that 
it  might  become  a  profitable  crop.  There  are  in 
California  large  bodies  of  land,  adobe  and  alkali 
and  those  where  the  hardpan  is  near  the  surface, 
which  are  not  well  adapted  to  the  crops  now 
raised  upon  them  but  upon  which  rice  may  be 
grown  very  profitably.  In  1914,  16,000  acres 
produced  8,528  tons  which  were  sold  at  an  average 
price  of  forty  dollars  per  ton. 

Last  year  California  shipped  out  of  the  State 
45,000  cars  of  oranges,  each  carrying  about  400 
boxes,  and  produced  65,000  carloads  of  raisins  of 
all  kinds.  Then  there  are  the  almonds,  and  Eng- 
lish walnuts  and  olives  and  melons  besides. 
And  that  reminds  me  of  a  story  which  aptly 
illustrates  the  abundance  of  melons  in  some 
localities.  A  ranchman  had  a  big  crop  and 
the  price  did  not  warrant  him  in  hauling  it 
to  market.  There  was  an  Indian  Reservation  not 
far  away  on  the  edge  of  the  Desert  and  it  is  well 
known  that  Indians  are  very  fond  of  melons.  The 
farmer  let  it  be  known  that  any  Indian  could  have 
all  the  melons  he  could  haul  up  a  little  hill  just 
outside  the  house  gate,  for  two  dollars,  but  if  the 
wagon  stalled  the  price  would  be  three  dollars. 
Soon  there  was  a  procession  of  wagons  coming  to 


312  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

the  ranch.  But  Indian  ponies  are  not  draft  horses 
and  generally  the  Indians  would  load  on  more 
melons  than  the  ponies  could  pull  up  the  hill. 
Then  ensued  laughter  and  shouts,  pushing  and 
whipping  of  horses  until  they  took  off  a  portion 
of  the  load.  It  was  a  great  festival  for  the  In- 
dians and  a  countryside  joke  among  the  ranchmen 
—  but  the  farmer  made  a  profit  even  at  two  dol- 
lars a  load. 

Land  values  in  the  Sacramento  Valley  are  not 
quite  so  high  as  in  the  Santa  Clara  and  San  Joaquin 
Valleys.  The  San  Joaquin  is  the  hottest  of  the 
three  in  summer  and  Santa  Clara  the  coolest, 
hence  the  latter  is  the  most  desirable  as  a  residen- 
tial district  besides  being  much  nearer  to  the  City 
by  the  Golden  Gate.  The  San  Joaquin  is  the  home 
of  the  vine  and  wine  and  the  seedless  raisins;  of 
melons  and  beans  and  peaches;  of  table  grapes 
and  a  score  of  other  edibles  which  are  sent  East 
throughout  the  summer  and  fall  by  train  loads  in 
double  sections.  We  sometimes  wonder  at  the 
fruit  appetites  of  our  remote  eastern  relatives. 

The  San  Joaquin  river  and  its  tributaries  take 
their  rise  in  the  Sierras,  run  northwesterly  and 
finally  mingle  their  waters  with  those  of  the 
Sacramento  in  Suisun  Bay,  a  broad,  shallow  sheet 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     313 

of  water  bordered  by  marshes  which  produce 
quantities  of  tulis  (bullrushes)  and  pasturage  for 
cattle.  Vast  numbers  of  ducks  and  geese  frequent 
the  bay  and  marshes  in  spring  and  fall.  Suisun 
Bay  is  some  fifty  miles  long  and  empties  through 
Carquinez  Straits  into  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco 
which  is  itself  sixty-five  miles  long  and  twelve  wide 
at  its  widest,  and  through  which  these  waters  reach 
the  Golden  Gate  and  the  Pacific  Ocean.  At  the 
Carquinez  Straits  there  plies  the  largest  ferryboat 
in  the  world  —  so  they  say  —  capable  of  transport- 
ing whole  trains  of  overland  passengers  at  a  single 
trip.  These  immense  land-locked  waters,  which 
the  Coast  Range  shuts  in  everywhere  except  at  the 
Golden  Gate  —  have  much  influence  on  the  climate 
and  upon  the  plants  of  the  districts  bordering  upon 
them.  In  fact  it  may  be  said  that  the  bay  region 
has  several  climates  and  a  flora  all  its  own. 

But  if  I  began  on  this  region  also,  this  tale 
would  never  have  an  end.  California  is  three 
times  the  size  of  New  York,  you  must  remember, 
with  enough  left  over  to  cover  Servia.  The 
County  of  San  Bernardino  alone  is  larger  than  that 
little  Kingdom  over  which  twelve  European  States 
are  now  so  fiercely  warring.  You  see  how  hard  a 
task  I  set  myself  in  attempting  to  give  you  even  the 
crudest  outline  of  so  big  and  varied  a  country. 


314  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

But  the  ink  in  my  pen  still  flows  and  my  agricul- 
tural hobby-horse  is  not  yet  tired  so  I  will  go  on  to 
say  that  in  the  wide  Valley  of  the  San  Joaquin  it 
has  become  necessary  to  employ  a  land  expert  to 
assist  the  farmer  and  the  colonist.  Both  the  State 
University  and  the  railways  employ  them  to  de- 
termine for  the  land-owners  such  difficult  problems 
as  how  to  provide,  transport  and  conserve  the 
water  supply;  whether  to  bring  the  supply  from 
the  mountains  or  to  pump  from  the  subsoil  to  the 
surface.  Where  the  lift  is  from  twenty  to  forty 
feet  the  problem  is  simple;  but  where  the  lift  is 
one  hundred  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  it  is  both 
more  complex  and  more  expensive.  In  large  dis- 
tricts, although  there  may  be  no  rain  for  six  to 
eight  months  in  the  year,  a  full  supply  of  water  for 
irrigation  may  generally  be  reached  within  pump- 
able  distance  of  the  surface,  and  in  a  few  localities 
artesian  water  is  found. 

The  agricultural  expert  should  not  only  be  able 
to  give  reliable  information  as  to  water  supply  but 
also  as  to  the  character  of  the  land,  especially  the 
subsoil.  This  can  often  be  determined  by  the  kinds 
of  plants  growing  on  the  land  but  the  character 
of  the  subsoil  is  usually  determined  by  the  use  of 
a  two-inch  auger  with  an  extension  handle.  In 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     315 

many  districts  a  hardpan  of  rock  or  semi-rock  or 
impervious  clay  is  found  from  a  few  inches  to  a 
few  feet  beneath  the  surface. 

The  vast  and  undeveloped  resources  of  so  big  a 
State  cannot  be  discovered  from  the  window  of  a 
Pullman  or  a  tourist  car.  The  railway  line  often 
runs  through  the  worthless  districts ;  and  there  are 
many  secrets  and  more  treasure  in  the  sage-brush 
plains  and  mountain  canyons  than  the  stranger 
dreams  of.  Unfortunately,  as  soon  as  you  settle 
in  a  promising  region  you  discover  that  what  you 
have  to  purchase  is  dear  and  what  you  have  to  sell 
is  cheap.  It  often  happens  that  what  you  want  and 
what  you  have  to  exchange  are  far  asunder.  The 
grainstack  and  the  smokestack  should  be  in  sight 
of  each  other  if  you  are  to  dodge  the  numerous 
railway  charges  and  the  middleman.  But  when 
the  best  is  done  that  can  be  done,  still  the  distances, 
even  within  the  State  itself,  are  so  great  that  both 
the  consumer  and  the  producer  are  at  a  disadvan- 
tage as  compared  with  Eastern  conditions. 

From  my  window  here  in  Berkeley  looking  out 
over  the  Golden  Gate  and  across  to  Mount  Tamal- 
pais,  the  country  seems  small  in  this  clear  air;  but 
when  I  read  the  invitation  lying  on  my  desk  to  at- 
tend a  wedding  in  San  Diego  I  begin  to  calculate 


3 1 6  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

the  distances  from  one  end  of  the  State  to  the 
other.  From  here  to  Fresno,  my  other  home,  is 
20 1  miles  and  it  is  392  miles  farther  to  Los 
Angeles;  thence  southward  still  another  127  miles 
to  San  Diego.  If  you  wish  to  go  to  the  end  of  the 
State  it  is  ten  miles  farther  to  Tia  Juana  on  the 
Mexican  border  where  all  wise  persons  purchase 
a  return  ticket.  In  fact  it  costs  something  like 
thirty  dollars  to  go  from  one  end  of  this  State  to 
the  other  —  and  wheat  is  only  ninety  cents  a 
bushel ! 

The  California  climate  is  just  like  the  soil  in 
one  respect — it  is  seldom  uniform  at  two  points 
even  a  few  miles  apart;  so  I  shall  pass  this  exten- 
sive topic  leaving  it  in  its  ever-ready  freshness  as 
a  suitable  start  for  general  conversation.  Every 
Californian  will  tell  you  about  its  virtues  and  about 
his  "  view."  Everybody  talks  about  his  view  and 
thinks  himself  entitled  to  own  one.  Wherever  you 
travel  throughout  the  State  the  dwellers  will  show 
you  the  curves  of  the  ocean  beaches  or  the  wide 
plains  of  arable  land  or  desert  waiting  only  for 
water;  girt  with  foothills  and  far  blue  mountains 
beyond. 

As  to  hills,  lofty  hills  with  lovely  views,  there  is 
one  in  California  for  every  family  in  the  United 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     317 

States  and  enough  left  over  to  satisfy  all  the  real 
estate  promoters.  At  this  moment  I  see  in  the 
near  distance  the  little  mountainette  "  Tamalpais." 
If  you  climb  it  you  think  it  is  a  knee-tester  but  if 
you  ascend  by  the  "  crookedest  railroad  in  the 
world"  you  get  more  thrills  out  of  this  double-up- 
and-turn-a round  track  and  the  double-headed  dinky 
engine  than  you  do  out  of  the  view  at  the  top. 

Many  of  these  mountains  in  California  are 
richly  stored  with  precious  and  mechanically  use- 
ful metals  but  the  forces  of  Nature  have  hidden 
them  so  cunningly  that  it  usually  takes  two  dol- 
lars worth  of  labor  to  discover  one  dollar's  worth 
of  metal.  Now  and  then  you  may  stumble  on  a 
rich  "  pocket  "  and  then  the  cash  flows  to  the  mint; 
but  you  may  have  to  be  grub-staked  a  good  many 
times  before  you  strike  it  rich. 

In  attempting  to  describe  the  population  of  Cali- 
fornia I  meet  the  same  difficulty  that  I  have  al- 
ready noted:  there  are  so  many  kinds  of  people 
that  it  is  all  but  impossible  to  give  a  clear  picture 
which  the  stranger  may  comprehend  and  identify. 
However,  everybody  comes  to  California  or  is 
going  to  come,  so  I  need  only  mention  the  classes 
that  strike  me  as  being  different  from  those 
familiar  to  me  in  the  East.  California  is  a  land 


3 1 8  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

of  contrasts  —  drifting  snows  and  torrid  deserts; 
fertile  plains  and  lofty  mountains ;  noble  rivers  and 
giant  trees;  precious  metals,  oil  and  wine;  fruits 
and  flowers  —  and  climates!  If  I  could  only  dis- 
pose of  its  cosmopolitan  people  in  ten  lines  like 
that — but  I  can't! 

There  are  still  the  Gold  Seekers  as  in  '49, 
though  the  tourist  will  not  see  them  for  they  dwell 
alone  in  the  high  rocky  fastnesses  and  by  the 
tumbling  streams  that  roar  through  the  mountain 
canyons.  The  prospector  is  a  silent  man,  living  on 
a  "  grub-stake  "  and  on  hope  and  faith.  Nor  is 
the  cowboy  tribe  extinct  though  you  may  not  dis- 
cover him  in  all  his  pristine  picturesqueness  except 
on  the  farthest  cattle  ranges.  He  is  slow  to  let 
down  the  bars  and  bid  you  "  light "  but  once  you 
gain  his  confidence  all  he  has  is  yours.  The  cattle 
business  is  not  what  it  used  to  be,  they  will  tell  you, 
as  they  recount  the  good  old  times  when  they  ruled 
the  range.  Uncle  Sam,  since  taking  control  of  the 
vast  grazing  areas  within  the  National  Forests, 
has  tamed  these  rough  and  ready  pioneers.  The 
number  of  range  cattle  is  likely  to  increase  and  of 
sheep  to  decrease  because  sheep  injure  the  young 
trees  and  grass  whenever  the  pasturage  is  short 
or  the  land  overstocked. 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     319 

A  third  class  of  people  not  found  as  a  distinctive 
group  in  other  states,  are  the  real  estate  dealers. 
In  all  except  the  larger  towns  they  are  more 
numerous  than  the  saloons ;  and  both  are  likely  to 
cause  the  traveller  to  drop  his  money.  When  you 
come  across  the  Sierras  you  are  likely  to  lay  aside 
your  conservatism,  put  some  of  your  traditions  on 
ice  and  become  a  joyrider  and  an  optimist.  I  am 
told  this  is  due  to  the  climate.  For  this  I  cannot 
vouch  but  I  do  know  there  is  a  big  pile  of  money 
dropped  in  unwise  ventures  out  here. 

The  prospector,  the  cowboy  and  the  real  estate 
man  are  three  picturesque  types  not  to  be  over- 
looked but  when  I  attempt  to  analyze  the  re- 
mainder of  the  population  I  am  reminded  of  the 
answer  a  man  gave  when  asked  as  to  the  breed  of 
his  dog.  "  Well,  sir,  he's  one-half  pointer  and  a 
quarter  setter  and  an  eighth  spaniel  and  the  rest 
just  plain  dog!  "  In  California  that  fraction  of 
the  population  which  is  just  plain  dog  is  pretty 
mixed  but  happily  there  are  a  goodly  number  of 
thoroughbreds  as  well  that  bay  true.  I  have  never 
known  so  many  true  men  and  women  to  give  their 
training,  time,  means  and  enthusiastic  labors  to 
the  cause  of  bettering  civilization  as  I  have  met 


320  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

here.  One  looks  on  in  amazement  at  the  pa- 
tience, courage  and  self-sacrificing  spirit  of  this 
small  minority  of  the  people.  My  daughter  puts 
it:  "  Majorities  rule  but  Minorities  lead  the 
world;"  and  I  would  add  that  when  the  majority 
overtakes  the  minority,  it  will  still  be  in  the  lead. 

I  am  persuaded  that  this  happy  condition  is  due 
largely  to  exceptional  freedom  of  thought  and  ex- 
pression not  only  in  general  society  but  among  the 
instructing  bodies  of  the  two  great  Universities. 
In  no  other  public  institutions  that  I  have  known 
are  the  workers  accorded  such  latitude  of  speech; 
even  the  students  are  permitted  to  speak  "  right 
out  in  meeting."  Autocrats,  big  and  little,  may 
muzzle  the  Press  for  political,  financial  and  per- 
sonal reasons  but  as  long  as  the  higher  institutions 
of  learning  are  free,  civilization  will  go  forward. 

The  leading  newspapers  of  this  State,  I  regret 
to  say,  are  very  generally  muzzled.  You  have  no 
more  than  subscribed  for  one  than  you  wish  you 
had  subscribed  for  the  other  because  none  of  them 
give  you  the  facts.  Not  only  are  men  and  meas- 
ures grossly  misrepresented  by  paid  correspond- 
ents who  must  obey  their  Masters'  orders,  but  the 
editorials  are  often  unfair  and  misleading  and 
sometimes  positively  untruthful.  There  are  per- 
haps only  three  newspapers  of  influence  which  may 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     321 

be  relied  upon,  of  which  The  Fresno  Republican 
is  the  most  conspicuous.  The  Editor  is  not  only 
an  able  man  but  takes  pains  to  get  the  facts  and 
then  analyzes  them  fairly  and  honestly.  The 
Sacramento  Bee,  which  has  the  distinction  of  fur- 
nishing the  best  news  service,  is  also  a  paper  of 
integrity  though  not  so  influential  editorially. 

How  so  many  newspapers  manage  to  live  and 
find  material  with  which  to  fill  their  columns  is  a 
mystery  in  a  State  only  half  a  century  old  and  so 
sparsely  populated.  But  Californians  are  great 
readers  of  current  publications  and  almost  as 
much  so  of  more  serious  ones,  if  I  may  judge  from 
the  recent  demand  in  the  Church  which  I  attend 
for  $465  for  printing  and  papers  for  the  coming 
year. 

The  Church,  or  The  Churches  (as  you  like) 
and  other  organizations  for  social  betterment  are 
too  numerous  to  mention.  Every  denomination 
that  I  had  ever  heard  of  and  many  others  are  rep- 
resented in  California.  The  thoughtless  reformer 
often  asks  why  not  unite  them  all,  or  at  least  the 
principal  ones,  and  thereby  save  time,  effort  and 
expense.  Well,  that  has  been  tried  several  times 
in  the  past  and  always  failed;  for  in  order  to  carry 
ii 


322  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

out  the  one-sect  or  one-church  plan  they  were  com- 
pelled to  torture  and  murder  vast  numbers  of  good 
people  of  other  beliefs.  Even  the  Apostles  wanted 
to  try  their  hand  at  the  one-church  business:  they 
reported  to  Jesus  that  some  people  were  teaching 
Christianity  but  were  not  "following  after  US;" 
and  Christ  answered:  "  They  that  are  for  us  can- 
not be  against  us." 

One  cannot  long  observe  Nature's  modes  of 
action  —  which  are  God's — before  discovering 
that  dissimilarity  is  the  supreme  rule  and  that 
homogeneity  is  the  exception.  Nature  is  ever  de- 
veloping new  genii,  families,  breeds,  sub-breeds 
and  varieties  without  end.  The  vegetable  and 
lower-animal  kingdoms  thrive  in  groups  innumer- 
able and  fulfill  the  purposes  for  which  they  were 
created;  so  why  should  mankind  with  infinitely 
higher  functions  and  nobler  aims  be  confined  to  one 
race  or  one  color,  one  form  of  government  or  a 
single  church? 

We  are  happily  becoming  free  —  Truth  is  mak- 
ing us  so  —  and  no  longer  must  diverse  races  and 
beliefs  be  coerced  into  narrow  traditional  grooves. 
I  am  glad  there  are  so  many  varieties  of  churches 
and  of  vegetables  for  now  I  can  select  those  which 
will  best  promote  my  spiritual  and  my  physical  de- 
velopment. There  are  not  even  yet  enough 


THREE  DEANS  IN   1914. 

I.  P.  Roberts,  Dean  of  College  of  Agriculture,  Cornell, 
1874-1903;  L.  H.  Bailey,  Prof,  of  Horticulture  (1888-1903) 
and  Dean,  1903-1912;  T.  F.  Hunt,  Prof,  of  Agronomy,  Cor- 
nell, 1903-1912,  and  Dean  at  Univ.  of  California,  1912  ff. 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     323 

churches  and  sub-organizations  within  them  to  fur- 
nish congenial  opportunity  for  the  millions  of  ear- 
nest men  and  women  who  desire  to  make  the  world 
better.  All  we  need  is  that  these  varieties  shall  live 
harmoniously  together. 

A  little  weekly  journal  lies  before  me  and  I 
quote  from  its  pages :  "Assorted  Conventions  and 
Congresses  to  the  number  of  1 1 5  are  scheduled  for 
the  last  two  months  of  the  Panama  Pacific  Inter- 
national Exposition  at  San  Francisco,  from  October 
fourth  to  December  fourth."  And  I  note  further 
on  that  more  than  fifty  livestock  and  poultry  socie- 
ties will  convene  at  the  Exposition  in  the  latter  half 
of  this  month,  although  we  who  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  entertaining  our  out  of  town  friends 
had  supposed  that  the  Neap  Tide  of  Exposition 
Conventions  would  occur  when  the  schools  opened. 

Somebody  says  a  new  organization  is  born  every 
minute  but  I  have  not  heard  of  one  for  Professors 
Emeritus  yet;  and  I  am  delighted  if  it  be  so,  be- 
cause with  a  few  exceptions  every  organization 
which  I  call  to  mind  is  striving  to  accomplish  some 
good  work.  Some  of  them,  particularly  the 
churches,  deal  with  the  problems  of  life  as  a  whole. 
A  glance  backward  into  history  reveals  the  fact 
that  nations  have  flourished  and  maintained  them- 
selves just  in  proportion  as  they  have  practised 


324  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

the  fundamental  principles  of  righteousness  with 
faith  in  the  real  man  —  the  invisible  man  —  who 
dwells  within  and  governs  the  visible,  clay-made 
man. 

Five  great  problems  were  left  by  the  Master  for 
us  to  work  out  and  fundamental  principles  were 
laid  down  by  which  they  might  be  solved.  The 
first  is  Religious  Liberty.  If  the  present  be  com- 
pared with  the  not  distant  past  it  will  be  seen  that 
this  is  nearly  attained  and  will  soon  be  completely 
solved  by  its  own  momentum.  The  second,  Civil 
Liberty,  has  made  long  strides  toward  the  final  end 
when  men  and  women  shall  have  full  expression 
under  laws  made  by  themselves.  It  is  just  seven 
hundred  years  since  twenty-four  brave  English 
Barons  demanded  and  secured  a  share  in  the  gov- 
ernment of  their  Kingdom.  It  has  been  a  long, 
hard  struggle  for  the  degree  of  liberty  now  pos- 
sessed in  our  own  country  where  twenty-four  mil- 
lion Americans  have  the  right  to  vote  and  a  share 
in  making  the  laws  under  which  they  live.  From 
the  Red  School  House  on  the  four  corners  to  the 
White  House  where  the  Head  Master  dwells  the 
problem  of  individual  liberty  is  well-nigh  solved. 

A  late  part  of  this  greater  problem  is  the  Liber- 
ation of  Woman  from  her  social  and  servile  bond- 
age. For  weary  ages  women  have  been  the  slaves 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     325 

and  mistresses  of  men.  If  there  were  too  many 
female  babies  born  they  were  slain  like  female 
dogs  and  cats.  But  only  yesterday  an  election  was 
held  in  this  State  to  vote  on  several  constitutional 
amendments  and  two  referendum^  and  the  women 
not  only  voted  but  two  of  the  election  officers  were 
women  citizens  —  college  graduates  —  who  did 
all  of  the  responsible  work  while  two  old-time 
political  "  hackneys  "  shared  the  wage.  All  this 
was  within  sight  of  the  towers  of  the  State  Uni- 
versity which  has  six  thousand  students,  two-fifths 
of  whom  are  women.  From  now  on  the  problem 
of  feminine  liberty  may  be  trusted  to  the  women 
themselves. 

How  much  the  State  gains  by  this  accession  of 
a  more  conscientious  if  not  more  intelligent  body 
of  voters  can  scarcely  be  reckoned.  In  the  four 
years  since  women  have  had  the  ballot  there  have 
been  developed  a  large  number  of  strong  wise 
women  leaders  and  they  are  already  making  a 
profound  impression  upon  the  State. 

The  fourth  great  problem,  National  Sobriety,  is 
now  on  the  way  to  solution.  A  nation  cannot  con- 
tinue to  exist  unless  it  lives  soberly.  Spirituous 
beverages  are  in  their  ultimate  effects  depressants. 
They  steal  the  brains  and  scotch  the  balance-wheel 
and  then  the  human  machine  runs  wild.  All  our 


326  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

lives  we  put  brakes  on  our  words  and  actions  in 
order  to  become  refined ;  but  alcohol  makes  us  un- 
stable and  away  the  fool  in  us  goes  without  brake 
or  balance,  revealing  the  secret  man  in  blasphemy, 
vile  wit  and  brutal  instincts.  It  is  up  to  us  of  the 
Twentieth  Century  to  put  down  the  drink  habit 
which  has  cursed  the  world  so  long  and  thus  put 
a  quietus  on  the  long  train  of  deviltries  which  have 
followed  it.  Now  that  "  the  better  half  "  of  the 
people  are  getting  their  rights  or  approaching 
them,  I  have  faith  that  this  one  of  the  two  hardest 
problems  will  soon  find  a  nation-wide  solution ;  for 
no  woman  wants  a  drunken  or  a  drinking  husband 
and  no  lady  likes  a  man's  feet  under  her  table  who 
stands  on  his  rights  and  forgets  his  duties. 

The  latest,  if  not  the  last,  of  the  great  problems 
which  we  of  this  generation  must  face  is  War.  All 
the  hideousness  and  ruin  of  wholesale  murder  has 
been  revealed.  Our  consciences  have  been  en- 
lightened and  what  was  once  bravery,  patriotism, 
powder-religion,  as  well  as  what  was  good  cheer 
and  wine  smartness,  have  become  heinous  sins. 
Sobriety  and  peace  are  twin  brothers.  We  may 
ignore  the  light  and  sear  our  consciences  and  when 
opposed  fight  back.  "  Whom  the  gods  destroy 
they  first  make  mad."  We  are  in  the  midst  of 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     327 

such  a  world  madness  the  end  of  which  we  cannot 
see.  Here  too  we  shall  have  the  help  of  the  wives 
and  sisters  upon  whom  the  greatest  burdens  and 
suffering  of  war  and  of  drunkenness  fall.  We  can- 
not be  a  peaceful  nation  without  being  a  sober 
nation;  we  cannot  be  both  without  going  a  long 
way  on  the  road  of  righteousness.  The  weak 
things  of  the  earth  shall  yet  confound  the  mighty 
and  the  purposes  of  God  be  accomplished  in  our 
land.  One  shall  not  say  to  another  —  Knowest 
thou  the  Lord  —  for  all  shall  know  Him  even 
from  the  least  unto  the  greatest. 

As  I  draw  near  to  the  end  of  my  story  and  the 
description  of  the  land  in  which  I  have  been  an 
onlooker  rather  than  an  active  force,  I  am  pro- 
foundly impressed  with  the  changes  and  the  im- 
provements which  have  been  made  in  the  twelve 
years  since  I  came  to  reside  in  California.  The 
great  seaport  of  San  Francisco  when  I  arrived  was 
half  foreign  and  altogether  provincial.  After- 
ward it  was  a  city  rocked  by  earthquakes  and  then 
a  city  in  ashes.  For  a  brief  time  it  became  a  sober 
city  wherein  were  no  saloons ;  and  what  a  contrast 
to  its  earlier,  riotous  self  it  was  during  that  brief 
period !  Struggling  in  the  midst  of  economic  prob- 
lems and  industrial  confusion  it  shortly  became  a 


328  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

city  ruled  by  bosses  and  looted  by  a  band  of  thieves. 
Since  then  the  uprising  of  the  better  stratum  of  the 
people  has  begun  and  now  San  Francisco  is  a  re- 
stored city,  far  richer  and  more  substantial  than 
before  its  great  disaster,  and  ruled  with  some 
degree  of  economy  and  honesty. 

During  all  these  bright  and  glorious  months  of 
1915  the  Golden  Gate  has  been  open  to  welcome 
all  the  Nations  of  the  earth  and  has  become 
thereby  at  last  cosmopolitan.  I  have  certainly 
lived  to  see  astounding  things.  The  mutual 
slaughter  of  nations  is  not  new  but  the  devastation 
of  twelve  European  nations  by  machinery,  is  as 
wonderful  as  it  is  horrible.  In  my  lifetime  I  have 
seen  six  Expositions  beginning  with  Paris  in 
1878,  but  none  compared  in  beauty  or  extent  with 
the  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition. 
And  the  greatest  wonder  of  all  is  the  Panama 
Canal.  None  of  these  things  impress  me  because 
they  are  big.  Bigness  is  like  millions,  incompre- 
hensible. Tall  buildings  may  be  made  taller  by 
the  addition  of  a  few  more  courses  of  brick  or 
stone;  tunnels  and  canals  may  be  made  longer 
by  a  few  more  blasts  of  dynamite;  but  the  whole 
enterprise  of  building  the  Panama  Canal  is  an 
eighth  wonder  which  I  am  glad  I  have  lived  to  see. 


CALIFORNIA  AND  WESTERING  SUN     329 

The  Ancient  Wonders  were  built  by  slave  labor 
and  the  brutal  sacrifice  of  innumerable  human 
beings;  this  Modern  Wonder  has  taught  man- 
kind how  to  preserve  the  workers  in  a  tropical, 
miasmic  climate  and  is  therefore  reckoned  one  of 
the  greatest  scientific  achievements  of  the  age. 
What  the  effect  of  the  Great  War,  the  Great  Ex- 
position and  the  Great  Waterway  will  be  upon 
agriculture  throughout  the  world,  it  is  impossible 
for  me  to  conjecture. 

And  still  the  ink  flows  freely  from  my  pen  but 
rather  than  weary  you  I  leave  it  to  your  imagina- 
tion to  complete  this  life  of  a  farm  boy.  I  have 
left  much  unsaid  for  my  life  has  touched  many 
that  are  still  living  and  there  are  some  things  too 
personally  sacred  to  be  put  in  print;  but  otherwise 
I  have  written  with  the  frankness  of  youth  and 
with  cordial  goodwill.  Before  you  have  finished 
these  pages  I  hope  you  will  have  become  my  friend 
and  so  I  invite  you  to  come  and  see  me  in  this  my 
adopted  country.  Come  in  the  heavenly  spring- 
time but  "  bring  your  heavy  wraps  for  while  the 
days  may  be  bright  and  warm  the  evenings  will  be 
cool."  This  is  the  stock  advice  of  an  acclimated 
Californian. 

Bring  your  purse  along  too,  for  this  country  has 


330  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

not  yet  shrunken  to  reasonable  dimensions.  Come 
with  an  open  mind  and  leave  your  magnifying 
glass  at  home ;  for  I  would  not  have  you  searching 
for  faults  and  fly  specks.  Rather  bring  your  field 
glass  and  we  will  go  to  one  of  the  thousand  hills 
and  take  in  all  the  vast  stretches  of  fruitful  fields 
and  landscape  beauty.  Come  quickly  before  I  get 
old  and  dull  and  you  shall  receive  the  old  Spanish 
settlers'  greetings:  "All  that  we  have  is  yours! " 

From  Earth's  wide  circling  bounds, 
From  ocean's  farthest  shore. 
Come  memories  ever  sweet 
Of  friends  I've  met  of  yore. 
Life  still  flows  smoothly  on, 
The  days  all  pleasant  run, 
As  through  the  Golden  Gate 
I  watch  the  Westering  Sun. 

DEDICATION 

And  now  to  whom  shall  I  dedicate  this  book  ? 

I  might  dedicate  it  to  my  children  but  they  know 
full  well  that  long  ago  I  dedicated  myself  to  them. 
I  would  like  to  dedicate  it  to  Professor  Liberty 
Hyde  Bailey,  my  colleague  and  successor  in  office 
at  Cornell,  but  I  fear  his  generous  nature  would 
not  be  pleased  to  be  singled  out  from  other  true 
and  faithful  friends.  So  why  not  dedicate  this 
simple  narrative  of  a  Farm  Boy's  life  to  the 


DEDICATION  331 

multitude  of  friends  who  are  scattered  all  along 
the  way  from  Canada  to  Florida,  from  Maine  to 
California? 

To  that  host  of  Sunday  School  children  of  long 
ago;  to  those  mischievous  boys  and  girls  who  re- 
ceived from  me  guidance  and  instruction  in  the 
three  R's  —  and  sometimes  discipline  as  well ;  to 
that  inspiring  and  almost  endless  procession  of 
college  students  who,  class  by  class,  looked  up  at 
me  from  their  seats  with  eager  minds  for  thirty 
years;  and  to  that  larger  host  whom  I  met  at  insti- 
tutes and  agricultural  gatherings,  and  last  and 
most  cordially  remembered  of  all,  to  my  college 
associates  and  generous  co-workers. 

To  this  great  multitude  —  the  friendly  harvest 
of  a  long  life  —  I  dedicate  this  my  last  book,  be- 
gun in  the  autumn  of  my  days  and  finished  at  the 
age  of  eighty-two.  May  it  give  as  much  pleasure 
and  inspiration  to  the  reader  as  I  have  found  in 
recalling  the  friendships  and  activities  of  half  a 
century.  May  my  life  history  be  in  some  measure 
an  encouragement  to  aspiring  farm  boys  wherever 
they  may  be  in  their  lonely  fields ! 

ISAAC  PHILLIPS  ROBERTS, 

Ax  DWIGHT  WAY  END,  BERKE- 
LEY ;  OR  FRESNO  ;  OR  PALO  ALTO  ; 
CALIFORNIA. 


